


Sweet Creature

by MrsStylinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A cat called Moo, Also Anne knows what's up, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Louis, But there's good stuff too, Cuddling, Flirting, Fluff, Harry is his knight in shining whatever, Hot Luke gets a special mention, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Liam is annoyingly studious, Louis is an unwilling co-parent, M/M, Masturbation, Niall is just...Niall, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Harry, Rimming, Slow Burn, Smut, The rape/non-consent is only mentioned, Zayn is annoyingly philosophical, but doesn't she always, louis has nightmares, so much cuddling, that's a grey's anatomy reference, the violence is graphic but limited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-11-05 03:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 78,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11004924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsStylinson/pseuds/MrsStylinson
Summary: Prompt: "You're having a nightmare and I feel bad because you're trembling and crying so I crawl into bed with you and hold you so you feel safe, but in the morning you wake up with my arms around you and you're really confused and embarrassed."With some slight modifications because I couldn't quite control myself enough to write a oneshot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I found this prompt on tumblr one night and I was really enchanted by it so I decided to turn it into a fic. I haven't credited the owner because I found it on a tumblr with multiple anonymous prompts and the owners of that tumblr explicitly stated that there is no need to credit them. Originally I was going to stick solely to the prompt and write a short snappy oneshot to keep me energised while I work on my other chaptered fic. Only my self control sucks and this beast happened instead. I am still working on my other fic very VERY slowly so please be patient but I hope you enjoy this in the meantime :) This first bit is just a taster but the rest of it is so close to being finished that I'm not worried about leaving you hanging this time! 
> 
> Thank you to anyone who has stuck with me. So much has happened since we last spoke, in the world around us and in my own life too. There are some angsty themes in this but I hope the lighter side of it puts a smile on your face. We could all use a pick me up given recent events. And on that note I dedicate this fic to all the victims of the Manchester attack. This fic was set there before this happened and makes no mention of it whatsoever but I wanted to mention it myself because it's moved me so very deeply. Writing some of what Louis deals with in this fic has been very difficult the past few days because the emotions are very similar to what the victims' families must be feeling. Shock. Loss. Fear. Sadness. Denial. That kind of trauma is almost incomprehensible but by writing the end of this fic, I do hope to comprehend it. At least in some small way. And I hope that in Louis finding his happiness, I can believe that these broken families will someday be happy again too. Great loss has the power to break you but great love, I'm sure, has the power to put you right back together again. Even if all the pieces don't fit the same way as before x

There's a cute boy lying beside Harry. Whimpering. Moaning. Screaming out obscenities as if every word is being punched out of him, one by one. It's something out of Harry's wildest wet dreams. Only the boy isn't tangled between Harry's sheets. He's in the bed beside him and well, he's not exactly conscious.

That probably sounds terrible. Harry is not some kind of deluded creep who has dirty fantasies about unconscious boys. Though objectively speaking, this unconscious boy might just be the most gorgeous thing Harry's ever seen. When he awakens, Harry wouldn't mind getting his name and perhaps a date, if he should only be so lucky. A tumble in the sheets could well be in their future. However, all of that comes second to the deep concern spreading through his chest at the sight of the boy tossing and turning wildly in his sleep, his face the picture of agony. It's beautiful, in a torturous way. His face is a work of art, every sculpted plane of it painted in waves of sorrow.  
  
The moonlight casts a luminous glow over his honeyed skin, revealing deep distress. It forms determined creases amongst his lovely elfin features.  Lovely, however is not a nice enough word to describe him. Harry's heart pulses with want. It's hard not to feel this stranger’s pain. Particularly when it’s obvious there's something happening inside him that he can't control. And what would he give to control it, Harry wonders. He watches the way the boy's soft feet kick out against the sheets. Dainty brown ankles twisting desperately in a sea of white.  
  
There's no break in the stream of wounded cries that fall from the boy's lips like ash from a fire. He can't seem to hold them in, nor the fearful whimpers that echo around the room in between. Harry fears this boy's torment will haunt his own dreams for many years to come. His cries are impossible to ignore, noisy and mournful as they are, his throat hoarse from screaming out. It settles uncomfortably in Harry’s chest and has him fighting for breath himself, overwhelmed tears tracking their way down his cheeks.  Harry would consider himself a pretty empathetic person but he's never felt such a swell of sheer sadness for anybody in his entire life. Let alone someone he's not yet spoken to.  
  
Harry only arrived at his new home this evening, lugging a suitcase behind him while his family dutifully followed behind.  
  
"They call this is a dorm room?" Gemma had scoffed. "It's more like a closet. My flat is twice the size of this."  
  
"Oh come off it Gem." Harry rolled his eyes. "This is all part of the uni experience. Living out of home. Working a shitty job. Making do with a shoebox like this...that's normal! We can't all be instant internet sensations with steady, flowing incomes, now can we?"  
  
Gemma's blog was irritatingly popular. Harry liked to make pointed jabs about her fame.  
  
"Harry," she gripped him by the shoulders and shook him a little. "There's mould on the window sill."  
  
"But at least there's a window," he said cheerfully, dimples fixed firmly in place.  
  
He'd always been highly capable of finding a silver lining. More capable than most anyway.  
  
After Gemma (begrudgingly) helped their parents settle him in, the three of them hugged him close one last time. With slightly misty eyes, they departed, wobbly little smiles gracing their cheeks. Harry supposed it wasn't every day the baby of the family decided to fly the coop.  
  
It was just verging on evening when Harry's family left. The sun had started its evening descent, bathing the dorm room in a peachy glow that filled Harry’s heart with promise. It was about dinner time, which explained his roommate's absence. What it didn't explain was why his roommate's side of the room looked like it had been ransacked by a bunch of thieves.

Clothes covered both the floor and the bedspread, all of them turned inside out. As if they'd been tried on numerous times before being flung in vastly different directions. There was mess everywhere and no organisation whatsoever, just disaster zone chaos. Obviously, his roommate had arrived, dumped their clothes on their bed, then been hard pressed to find something they wanted to wear. It explained why there appeared to be a half empty can of hairspray lying by the foot of the bed and a hair straightener tangled around a brush. Clearly his roommate was quite concerned with his appearance. Harry didn't let that dissuade him from excitement. Despite their obvious differences, Harry found himself intrigued. The mess scattered across the floor was less than appealing but Harry decided to look on the bright side. His roommate had managed to contain the mess to his side of the room. There was at least some basic decency in that.  
  
After he finished unpacking the last of things, Harry took a trip to the shower. Communal bathrooms were about as offensive as he'd expected; a little bit grimy but not altogether too bothersome. He showered with his shoes on and spent a bit of time familiarising himself with the best way to achieve optimal temperature (there really was no trick to it. Harry settled for scalding hot). With that done, he decided that a muesli bar from a nearby vending machine would have to suffice for tonight. He felt like he needed a good night's sleep before he braved the cafeteria or any other public domain.

It wasn't that he feared meeting new people. Making friends was something he rather enjoyed. It’s just that he tended to shift between varying extremes of craving interpersonal communication and staving it off completely. There was only so much charm one person could spare.

Harry didn't hear his roommate come in. He's always been a deep sleeper. It’s why it’s so surprising to have woken up to the sound of someone's cries, loud enough to disturb even his deepest dreams. Despite his confusion, Harry doesn’t feel particularly vexed or hateful towards his roommate. How could he feel that kind of hatred for anyone in such genuine pain, let alone this boy?  
  
When he looks across the room, Harry sees a beautiful yet undeniably grief-stricken boy. This guy looks like the last person you'd ever expect to see trembling with fear and whimpering into his pillow. He’s pretty enough to be a model and fit enough to be an athlete. He looks like the kind of person who achieves anything he sets his mind to through sheer will power alone. Yet here is, naked with vulnerability, struggling just to take a breath.

Unconscious tears slip out the sides of the boy's closed eyelids, dripping down his tan cheeks and coating the pillow beneath. It's a sorry sight, really. There are no two ways about it. Harry feels hard pressed to ignore it. Yet ignore it he does as the call of sleep is too strong and this boy, too foreign a concept. What could Harry possibly offer him anyway? He closes his eyes and does his best to close his ears too.  
  
Unfortunately Harry's attempts to ignore the boy remain wildly unsuccessful. He suffers for hours, trying to stifle the noises with his pillow. The boy’s anguished cries continue to build. Like a symphony orchestra climbing towards a dramatic crescendo. It’s hypnotising, haunting. So much so it hurts to behold. It reminds Harry of a tragic opera that burns your ears with its soulfulness. Each time Harry gnashes his teeth together in frustration, another choked out sob convinces him to just let it be.  
  
That is until their neighbours start banging on the walls in protest.

The sound of it leaves the boy even more distressed than before. He seems to be legitimately struggling for breath, tensing against the sheets with his body pulled taut like a wire. It looks painful and twisted. The boy’s face is too soft to be looking that tense. While Harry could not care less about the people banging on the walls, he finds that he really _does_ care about the added pain it's causing his roommate.  
  
He makes his way over to the other boy's bed, crouching down bedside him with a hint of trepidation. It brings the boy’s figure into sharp focus, offering Harry an unobstructed view of his soft skin, tan like caramel.  
  
"Time to wake up mate," Harry coos, cupping the boy's shoulder.

He shakes him gently to no avail. The boy tosses and turns, shaking Harry off in the process. He whimpers into his toned bicep, biting down on the hardened flesh. Harry gasps softly, more affected than he's willing to admit. He lifts the boy's chin up and away from his arm, dreading the look on this boy's face when he wakes up and finds Harry, a total stranger, gingerly cupping his face.  
  
"C'mon wake up," Harry pleads. " _Please._ "  
  
It’s not working. The boy is clearly locked in a vivid nightmare and nothing short of a siren would wake him up at this point. Harry just can't bring himself to startle the boy into wakefulness. For all he knows waking him like that could make it worse.  
  
"Okay... okay, that's fine." Harry breathes out, contemplating his next move.  
  
He watches the boy's face twitch with pain, his little fingers clenched into white knuckled fists. The pitifulness of it is just enough to dissolve the last of Harry's reservations, leaving him desperate and unsure.  
  
"I'm just going to give you a hug?" He suggests doubtfully, as if the crying boy might wake and give him permission.  
  
It feels awfully strange proposing to hug a total stranger. This person who could be a terrible narcissist for all Harry knows. Here he is trying to comfort this boy in his sleep and they've not yet exchanged names, let alone confessed their deepest fears. However, Harry finds himself compelled to help, no matter the lack of knowledge between them. With no other options, this is his best idea yet, though hardly inventive. He remembers reading something the other day about the intrinsic power of touch. It centred around the relationship between a caregiver and their infant and mentioned the importance of skin on skin contact in reducing infant distress. If holding a baby is enough to soothe their anxiety, surely it can work its magic on Harry’s anxious roommate?  
  
He decides not to move the boy. Thinks it's best not to, given his perilous state. Instead he wraps his arms around the tops of the boy's shoulders, resting his head in the hollow between the boy's shoulder and neck. The skin there is warm, almost hot. It smells of something unmistakably boyish and yet equally sweet. It’s a scent Harry recognises. Gardenia and jasmine. He has a candle which smells just like it. Harry fights the inclination to inhale and lays there quietly breathing, his body twisted at an awkward angle as he fully embraces the boy.  
  
It's a few moments before it occurs to him that it's actually working. The boy is still making noises but there's no tossing or turning. His cries have quietened slightly. His breath is significantly deeper and much less shallow. The feel of it is almost addictive. Harry is more or less keeping this boy from his torment. It's both this and the soreness of his body in this position that persuades him to go further, peeling back the covers slowly. He’s unable to fight the fondness in his face as the boy's expression curls into bitter displeasure.  
  
"Give me a second," Harry whispers, lips pursed in a barely there smile.  
  
His smile falters as the boy gasps then shudders against the sheets, struck by terror again. Harry moves quickly and clumsily. It's a wonder his roommate doesn't wake but alas, his eyes remain closed. Harry slides into the boy's bed and lifts his roommate up until he’s cradled against his chest, lips quivering gently. Harry holds him there in his lap while he settles himself against the back of the bed, readjusting so that he can hold the boy close.  
  
"Shh," he murmurs, combing his fingers through the boy's fringe. It’s a slightly darker caramel than his skin. "It's okay. Please don't cry."  
  
The boy snuffles wetly, sighing as he situates his head on Harry's collarbone. Finally he seems to give his poor lungs a rest. It's though the more Harry touches him, the calmer he feels. That said, Harry keeps his hands to himself as much as he possible, never venturing any lower than the waist.  
  
After ten minutes of straight silence, only broken by the boy's soft, calm breaths, Harry makes an executive decision. It’s time to move back to his own bed. Mission accomplished, he thinks to himself. Yet as soon as he puts a foot on the carpet, effectively releasing the boy from his grip, the whimpering starts right back up. And it’s louder than before.  
  
"Okay I'm sorry," Harry huffs, gathering the boy back up into his arms. "Please stop crying. You're breaking my heart mate."  
  
After a few minutes back within the enclosure of Harry's arms, the boy's expression clears. He clings to Harry like an octopus, wrapping his limbs around him in some kind of koala bear hug. It's clammy and not altogether comfortable but Harry is a sucker for a cute boy with a broken soul.  
  
"You're awfully small for a uni student.” Harry tells him an hour in, eyeing his dainty wrists and fit little legs. "But I like your tattoos."  
  
There's a chest piece catching Harry's eye at the moment. It draws attention to an impressive set of collarbones, standing out from the boy’s chest. Though when Harry looks over his tattoos again, he's equally taken with the seashell behind his ear or the word _boo_ etched across the side of his little finger. This boy has character.

Harry quickly realises that it's not going to be possible to leave him tonight. They're going to have to stay intertwined this way with Harry bent up against a wall. It’s kind of a problem given that they don't know each other whatsoever. The boy is liable to completely freak out if he wakes up in a stranger's burly arms. Harry knows he would. So he does the wise thing and sets an early alarm. He doesn't have any clue whether the boy is an early riser or not but given the restless way he sleeps, he predicts not.  
  
At ten to six, Harry slips out from behind the boy, tucking him in tight before moving back to his own bed. Thankfully he seems to have lulled the boy into a deep sleep. He makes no protest this time, allowing Harry a clean getaway.

It's Harry that surprisingly feels a little bit lost. His bed seems strangely empty without the warmth of his Nightmare Boy all over him. He shakes his head at that, completely exasperated. Only he could fall partially in love with someone he’s never even spoken to. Twisting his head to look at said boy, Harry wonders if the boy’s smile is as loud as his suffering. Is it the kind of smile you can’t look away from, the kind that can’t be ignored? Harry thinks it is. He thinks he might never be the same again once he’s seen it.

He mustn’t get ahead of himself though. If tonight’s events have proven anything it’s that even the most heavenly of angels have demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to mix elements of my uni experience with college annnnd the stuff I've read in fics. It may not be factually accurate, sue me.
> 
> Or just let me know what you think. Been a while since I had a chat with any of you :) x
> 
> Oh and stay tuned for more!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Louis' POV :D Oh and meet Niall! 
> 
> Warning: There is one mention of panic attacks here and some very vague descriptions of violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just thought I'd catch you up on a bit of what's happened to me in the last six months. It informs my writing a lot.   
> I got my first tattoo! On my wrist. It says 'darling just hold on'. I knew I wanted it as soon as I heard Louis' song, to remind me that I should keep going even when I feel that I'm not strong enough anymore. Just the other day I got a second one on my other arm. It's a quill with birds coming out the top to remind me that writing isn't just a hobby for me, it's the only way I find release. On that note, I stopped my uni course because I realised psychology is not something I'm passionate about. I've applied to do and been accepted into a course for writing and editing. I'll probably focus on the editing side of it because it is more achievable but to have the chance to work on my writing skills at the same time is a true blessing. I start at the end of July! I also turned 21 which was a big deal because I had a party for it even though I'm so introverted and celebrating my birthday with other people is usually quite horrifying. So yeah, lots of changes. I feel more inspired than ever! Sorry for the huge note, I don't even know if people read these hahah

Louis’ head feels weirdly heavy. Almost fuzzy, like cotton wool. This feeling is the first thing he registers when he wakes up in his new dorm room. Well, that and the fact that his sleeping roommate is now facing him, giving Louis his first real glimpse of the guy. Last night when Louis came in, he’d hyped himself up to meet his new roommate, whoever that may be. He was quite disappointed when he found the boy curled into a ball on his bed, no signs of waking anytime soon.  
  
It's a quiet relief to Louis to finally get a glimpse of the boy's face. He’s able to establish that a) he's not a serial killer (he just doesn't have that serial killer look to him, if such a thing exists) and that b) he's not someone Louis would be too busy trying to sleep with to get to know.

That's not to say the boy isn't good looking. Far from it. He's blessed with these silky looking curls that trickle down past his quirky little ears, falling neatly to his shoulders. He wears a collection of interesting looking rings on his long, potentially pleasure inducing fingers and has what looks like a very fit body with smooth alabaster skin all over. He's positively princely, absolutely gorgeous. He also looks like a bit of a heartbreaker but then why wouldn't he be? He's gorgeous, did Louis mention?

It’s just that as a rule, Louis tends to stay away from those. Gorgeous people and him just don’t mix. Or not anymore, anyway. Countless times he's been the one chasing the heart of a heartbreaker, never relenting, only to find out that in the end the chase always proves futile. Heartbreakers don’t give away their love and affection, they dangle it in front of you like a chew toy. Then they take it away.

He doesn’t date gorgeous people which means his gorgeous roommate is definitely out of bounds. It doesn't bother Louis as much as it would have two years back. Now he's free to get to know the lad and make a friend out of him _without_ the pesky intrusion of feelings, or the pressure to present one's best self. _Phew_.  
  
He sits up slowly, finding he wasn't at all imagining the heaviness in his head. It feels like he's slept for twice as long as usual, which is a little strange given that he's in an unfamiliar environment. His first night in a new dorm room and somehow, he’s had the best sleep of his life? It just doesn't seem right. But Louis' not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He climbs from the bed, gathering his toiletries to take to the bathroom which is when his sleeping roommate decides to make a noise.  
  
"Please don't cry," he murmurs, voice saturated with this awful, soulful sadness.  
  
It bothers Louis all the way to the bathroom and into the shower. He scrubs at his skin like he’s trying to scrub the remnants of those words from his mind. There's a haunting familiarity there which sticks to his skin even as he rubs it dry with his towel.

Those words. That voice.

He's heard it before, he’s sure of it but how could that be? He's never met this boy before in his life. Has he?  
  
*-*-*  
  
When Harry opens his eyes, there's a very wet, very _naked_ boy straddling his hips but it’s not just any boy. It’s the boy whose screams will probably haunt Harry’s dreams for the rest of his life. Here he is sitting astride Harry, shirtless and dripping wet, acting as though none of this is in the slightest bit weird.

Harry can't think about what happened last night. He can't think about anything but cheeky blue eyes and the juxtaposition of this boy’s soft, kissable tummy with his toned arms and fit thighs. Christ, Harry's Nightmare Boy is even more captivating in daylight and he's about an inch away from sitting on Harry's dick.

 _Fuck_.  
  
"You're awake," the boy says, eyes gleaming brightly. "Took you long enough."  
  
"You're...you're sitting on me," Harry stutters, struck dumb. "Do you...remember then?"  
  
He has to. Surely. He must have been conscious at some point, even without realising what was happening at the time. They should really talk about what Harry witnessed and how to ensure it _never_ happens again.  
  
"Remember...what?" The boy looks confused, his eyes narrowed into sceptical slits. "Have we met before or something?"  
  
There's a beat of tense silence.  
  
"Um, no." Harry speaks belatedly. "But...last night. You. I mean, does that usually happen? Is it always that bad?"  
  
The boy scrambles up off him, his eyes darting frantically around the room.  
  
"Is _what_ always that bad? You're starting to freak me out mate."  
  
Which is when Harry decides to backtrack. Clearly this poor guy has no idea what happened.   
  
"Oh um, nothing. Sorry. I just meant...well, you kind of snore?"  
  
*-*-*  
  
A huge wave of relief rolls through Louis' body when his new roommate complains of snoring. Snoring, he can deal with. Snoring isn't the kind of thing you go to therapy for. Well…maybe sleep therapy but that’s entirely irrelevant.

Louis’ so glad that _that_ time in his life is over now. For good. The hell he experienced, the way it turned him skittish and unsure, it was torture. He's not that person and he never wants to be that person again. It was one of the worst times of his life and while he wouldn't say he's recovered completely, he feels like he's at least on the right track. He hasn't suffered a single nightmare in months. That's an achievement, right? It's the main reason he finished his therapy up, despite substantial protest. Both his mum and his therapist had strong reservations about him starting uni this year. Then when it came to him wanting to finish up his therapy altogether, they were basically up in arms. They strongly tried to dissuade him from it but Louis wouldn’t let them change his mind. He was doing this, whether they liked it or not.  
  
"You're not ready, Louis." His bespectacled therapist had told him, expression severe. "I wouldn't hesitate to send you off if I thought you were. But it's still raw for you, isn't it? You need to accept that and confront it first, before you are able to conquer the memory completely."  
  
"I have," Louis' voice rasped painfully, his eyes burning traitorously in their sockets. "It's been two years Doc. What more can I do to prove it to you? The nightmares are gone. I haven't had a panic attack in months. I'm ready."  
  
"You wish you were, I believe that." Doctor Dick was as patronising as ever. It’s how he earned the moniker in the first place. "Tell me, have you been back yet? Do you still take the long way to work?”  
  
"Yes." Louis replied honestly then cursed his reflexive answer.  
  
"So you see why I might have concerns." His hands rested on the desk between them. "You're coping Louis, I’m aware of that. I acknowledge that there has been considerable progress, some of it quite remarkable."  
  
"But..." Louis sighed.  
  
"But you are about to bite off more than you can chew. The anxiety of an unfamiliar environment is likely to aggravate your anxiety, bringing back the memories you have not fully confronted. I fear for you Louis, I really do."  
  
Louis rolled his eyes. He'd heard most of this from his mother already. Doctor Dick had gone above his head and called her after their last session. He was an adult for christ sake. Surely it was against the law to divulge that kind of information to her.  
  
"Well thanks for the advice, Doc but fortunately I am well within my rights to terminate my therapy here."  
  
"Louis, please--" the doctor looked more than aggravated now, his white bushy eyebrows drawn together with agitation.  
  
"Thank you for your time." Louis cut him off succinctly, ending their session right there.  
  
He left the premises in a calm manner. Or somewhat calmly anyway. His hands got a bit clammy when he realised he was going to have to do this on his own from now on. Nonetheless after deferring uni for the last two years and wasting hours of his life in that very office, he was consumed by the need to escape. He was ready. He _is_ ready and that means moving the fuck on with his life and forgetting that the last two years ever happened.

Thank god his roommate doesn’t know. It means Louis can finally start afresh. Straddling the guy's hips as a wakeup call might have been overkill but it's no different to how he would have woken up any of his friends back home. It's not his fault this guy looks like he came straight out of Britain’s Next Top Model.  
  
"Oh. Right. Sorry mate." Louis scratches the back of his neck. "Been a while since I properly shared a room with somebody. I'll have to get something for that."  
  
"No, it's...okay."  His roommate’s intensely green eyes smile directly into Louis'. "It wasn't all that bad."  
  
Louis chuckles.  
  
"Mate you literally just asked me if it's usually that bad." He says, quirking an amused eyebrow.  
  
Curly blushes and bats his eyelashes down. Pretty little thing, Louis thinks. Then Gorgeous Boy stands up and he's almost a full head taller than Louis. _Not so little then_. He could just pick Louis up and slam him against a--  
  
_Stop it_. _You're not going to sleep with your gorgeous roommate_ , he tells himself. _It's just another delicious piece of eye candy that you can never ever have. Or taste. Or sleep with.  What could be better?  
_  
"On that embarrassing note, I'm Harry...Styles," the boy adds, after an awkward beat of silence.  
  
Louis smirks and grabs the guy's proffered hand, ignoring the way his long fingers curl around Louis’, trapping him in their grip.  
  
"Hello Harry....Styles." He teases, enjoying the return of Harry's easy blush. "I'm Louis Tomlinson, from Donny."  
  
Harry smiles at him and _holy fuck_ , he’s all dimpled and perfect. Louis might as well be Meredith Grey and Harry’s his god damn McDreamy. Except that he’s not. He can’t be. Because someone as gorgeous as Harry is well and truly forbidden. Louis’ trying really hard not to question why that is. I mean c’mon, as if it wasn't hard enough for Louis to pretend his roommate isn't his type. Now he has to deal with his dimples too! They're like actual craters in his cheeks that complement his jawline and everything. Life is _so_ unfair.  
  
"I'm from Cheshire meself but my grandparents actually live in Donny. We used to visit them all the time when I was a kid."  
  
"Really?" Louis’ face creases up into a friendly smile. "Did you ever visit the ice skating rink?"  
  
It's only one of Louis' favourite places ever and Harry looks adorably enthused by the suggestion. He claps his hands together like a seal.  
  
"Only every time I visited!" He laughs, perceivably at his own over the top enthusiasm. "I wasn't very good at it though," he admits, bashful.  
  
"Really?" Louis looks him up and down, clearly sceptical. "But your legs."  
  
The boy looks nonplussed.  
  
"My legs?"  
  
"Your thighs look like they could support a small barge." Louis blurts out, feeling stupid almost immediately.  
  
Thankfully, Harry just seems awed.  
  
"Says you!" He laughs, not so subtly checking him out. "Your legs are even more toned than mine. You must go the gym every day."  
  
"Um, no." Louis shakes his head vehemently. An embarrassing giggle escapes his mouth at the exaggerated look of horror on his roommate's face. "I actually really hate the gym. But I play footie all the time and they tend to make me play midfield a lot."  
  
"Well..." Harry's face bares a hint of a smirk. "You have the legs for it."  
  
"I have these legs because of it!" Louis insists. "I'd be the size of a house if I didn't play."  
  
Harry not so discreetly checks him out. _Again._  
  
"I highly doubt that." He says, those emerald eyes flashing just a shade darker than before.  
  
Louis tucks his chin in, trying to hide the deep blush crawling up his neck.  
  
"You um, you want to get breakfast with me?" Louis asks, pitifully soft and unsure.  
  
He suddenly feels entirely too exposed with his chest on display like this. He shifts sideways, slinging an arm around his waist.  
  
*-*-*  
  
Is this really the same boy that had straddled him moments earlier? Surely Harry could be forgiven for thinking that it's not. There's an uncertainty in the way Louis regards him now, openly vulnerable. His sharp canine teeth bite down into the soft pink flesh of his bottom lip, tugging at it restlessly. It reminds Harry of the way he’d bitten into his own bicep last night. Harry wonders errantly if it left a mark and if Louis came across it in the shower, startled by its sudden appearance, confused as to what could have left it there. Sure enough when Harry glances at Louis' bicep, he spies a faint white mark in the shape of his teeth.  
  
"I'd love to have breakfast with you Lou." Harry assures him, smile purposefully bright.  
  
He's not sure who he's most excited to have breakfast with; the boy who straddled him without fear or the boy staring back at him now, wide eyed and alarmed. He’s obviously surprised by Harry's affection, his cheeks tinged in subtle pink. He's a lot like Harry's Nightmare Boy, yet somehow softer and much less tragic. It's unclear to Harry how these two boys coexist so easily inside the one body but what is clear is that they’re both equally beautiful. There's no denying it.  Louis is far more enchanting than he seems to give himself credit for.  
  
"Lou?" he questions Harry, an arm still hanging loosely around his own waist.  
  
It's a damn crying shame. It’s obstructing Harry's view of his stomach. That gloriously soft stomach that Harry just wants to sink his teeth into just once.  
  
"You don't like Lou?" Harry asks, raising his eyebrows. "How bout Lewis?"  
  
Louis laughs, both his eyes and nose scrunched in wholesome delight. His features are more delicate than most, yet so refined. Like an artist's most intricate sketch come to life.  
  
"I think I prefer Lou." He says, smile gone slightly lopsided. "How bout it Harold?"  
  
Harry shoves him gently.  
  
"It's Harry and you know it."  
  
The other boy turns his nose up, shaking his head.  
  
"I know no such thing Sir."  
  
Harry scoffs and pulls Louis into his side, almost instantly settling his fingertips into the delicate curve of his hip. It's warm beneath his fingertips, but then that's no surprise. Harry’s already felt the glimmer of sunshine trapped in Louis’ skin. He just didn't know that same glow would be shimmering in his eyes, captured in his laugh or shining through each and every word he's spoken thus far. Harry is more than a little enamoured. It's no big deal.  
  
"C'mere you." Harry hushes him. "If I get some breakfast in you, will you stop sassing me?”  
  
"Never," Louis vows, a brilliant smile in his eyes. “And I can't go to breakfast like this. It might turn a few heads."  
  
He gestures awkwardly at his half naked body, Harry refusing to part ways with the warm curve of his hip.  
  
"Yeah it would," Harry agrees, eyeing him with exaggerated hunger.  
  
It's not that hard to pretend. For obvious reasons.  
  
"Creep," Louis laughs, pushing him away. "Stop looking at me like I'm a piece of meat."  
  
Harry grins and puckers his lips. Louis shoves his face away in spite of the fact that he's grinning too _._

 _Soft and pretty_.

It's all Harry can think whenever he looks at that smile.  
  
"And you can't go to breakfast like _that_ ," Louis adds, looking him up and down with evident disdain.  
  
Admittedly, Harry’s plaid pyjama pants and favourite holey t-shirt are probably _not_ the best way to impress a cafeteria full of their fellow students. Harry pretends anyway. Planting his hands on his hips, he struts up and down their dorm room as if he’s on a catwalk in Milan, making eyes at Louis the whole way.  
  
"Why not Lou? I think I'm pretty fashion forward."  
  
The other boy plants his face in his palm with an audible groan. It makes Harry giggle noisily.  
  
"C'mon Lewis, it's not so bad. I'll make you dinner whenever you want."  
  
"We don't have a kitchen," Louis protests, adorably befuddled.  
  
Harry thinks it's only appropriate to pat him on the head. That earns him a punch to the groin. _Sassy and violent_. What on earth has Harry gotten himself into?  
  
"I meant in the communal kitchen, obviously Lewis." He rolls his eyes. "Keep up."  
  
He gets another dick punch for his efforts. That prompts him to suggest they get changed. Separately, of course. Despite his dangerous thoughts, Harry manages to keep himself in check. In his defence though, Louis _is_ a walking sex dream. Exhibit A. He decides that he simply _must_ bend over on the now clean (clean!) floor in front of Harry and fetch some clothes from underneath it (well that explains the misleading cleanliness). He's only wearing a pair of tight black pants and the further he reaches under his bed, the more they ride up, inching towards his bum and revealing more and more of that soft, golden skin. Harry is half hard within mere moments and is forced to turn away in shame.  
  
"I'll be in the toilet." _Wanking off_. "Getting changed."  
  
Harry doesn't actually intend to get off but when he looks down at himself, he finds he’s quite reluctant to head down to the cafeteria with such an obvious semi tenting his trousers. What if Louis notices? What if the whole student populace notices? What if he combusts from the intensity of this extreme sexual frustration?  
  
He licks a wet stripe up his palm and wraps a wet hand around his aching cock. Sighing with relief, he jerks it a few times, rougher than he would have been had he more time. Unfortunately, hard and fast is the only option he's got right now. So he jerks off quickly and quietly until his orgasm crashes over his head with almost alarming intensity. Harry doesn’t look Louis in the eyes the whole way to the cafeteria.  
  
*-*-*  
  
"So what are you studying?" Louis asks when they're seated, a tray full of fried food spread out in front of him.  
  
Harry looks a bit disgusted by him and his eating habits but Louis’ not bothered. He’s just as disgusted by what Harry picked out. Fresh fruit. Yoghurt. And, the worst crime of them all, a pre-packaged smoothie that looks way too gelatinous to be natural.  
  
"I'm studying history. Everyone thinks I'm strange for wanting to study it so badly. It’s not the kind of thing they expect me to say, I guess." Harry shrugs delicately, as if he's completely unbothered by people’s judgements of him. "It may sound boring but I absolutely love it."  
  
This guy is something else. He's so open and unapologetically himself. It's a rare trait in a guy who looks this good on the outside.  
  
"Good for you," Louis grins, chasing a stray bit of hash brown around the edge of his plate.  “I could say the same really. I'm going to be studying music, it’s not exactly a stable career choice but I just don't think I’d be happy doing anything else."  
  
Harry seems disproportionately impressed.  
  
"Wow, that's awesome Lou. I'm huge into music too but it's more of a hobby than anything else."  
  
Louis nudges his foot beneath the table, smirking a bit.  
  
"I don't know about that Harold. You look like a proper rockstar with your weird looking jewellery and those illustrious curly locks."  
  
Harry laughs unashamedly, tilting his head back to expose that clean cut jawline. Pretty, pretty boy. Not really a boy though, is he? Louis can’t help but stare at his muscled pecs. Those are a whole lotta man.  
  
"I'm flattered, Lou. Really." He grins, snapping Louis out of his dirty thoughts. "But c'mon, I can't compete with those perfect baby blues of yours."  
  
Louis' stomach twists a bit. He ignores it, making a show out of fluttering his eyelashes down and smiling coyly.  
  
"These old things?" He makes his voice go all high and breathy. "You like em huh?"  
  
Harry looks torn between laughter and...something else. Louis' not quite sure what it is but whatever it is makes his stomach go all weird and fluttery again.  
  
"I think I might swoon," Harry sighs, pretending to fall back against his seat.  
  
Louis kicks him beneath the table.  
  
"Stop it, you weirdo."  
  
The other boy looks at him in total exasperation.  
  
"You started it!"

Louis shrugs.

"And now I'm finishing it. Harold, you're way too convincing as a teenage girl.”

“I used to imitate my sister all the time, I got really good at it!”

Louis narrows his eyes at him.

“Are you quoting She’s The Man at me?”

“Maybe.” Harry’s smirking. “How’d you guess?”

 He’s smirking way too much for Louis’ liking.

"I have four sisters," Louis says with a roll of his eyes. “I’m not some kind of chick flick expert.”  
  
Harry beams at him, nodding to himself determinedly, as though tucking this information away for future reference.  
  
"Well I only have one...and she hates chick flicks." He pauses. "But I think She's the Man might be in my top five flicks ever."  
  
Louis thinks this boy must not be able to help how irresistibly likeable he is. Easy to love, one might say. Not Louis. He'd never say that.  
  
"And what's number one?" Louis asks, genuinely curious.  
  
"Love actually," he admits with a proud little grin.  
  
Louis can't knock it.  
  
"Mine's Grease," he says, aiming for unapologetic.  
  
Harry looks particularly pleased with this, letting out a contented sigh as he traps one of Louis' feet between his.  
  
"I bet you know all the words and every time you watch it with your sisters, they tell you to stop mouthing along with the movie."  
  
"I'm offended." Louis tells him, a hand covering his chest. He watches gleefully as Harry's skin slowly heats with shame. "I don't mouth anything Harold, I _sing_."  
  
The curly haired boy barks out a laugh, his expression crumbling into instant relief.  
  
"You arse! You had me thinking I'd actually insulted you!"  
  
Louis pokes his tongue out.  
  
"I'll give you a tip," he says. He doesn't mean for it come across so dirty when he drags his tongue across his bottom lip. "I'm not easily offended."  
  
Harry leans in close to hear him whisper and then just...stays there, unabashedly staring at Louis' mouth. In this moment, it's _very_ hard for Louis to remember why it's a bad idea to get involved with one's sexy roommate. Especially if said roommate might actually be interested in him too. Life is so unfair. Did he mention?  
  
*-*-*  
  
Harry is staring and he's not quite sure he can stop. Louis might have the prettiest mouth he's ever seen...and quite possibly, the dirtiest. Harry’s not sure which arouses him more. He's not even sure that the other boy _meant_ for his words to sound so illicit. Nonetheless Harry's dick is rather interested in the path Louis' tongue takes back to his succulent little mouth. That and well, the sheen of moisture on his lips would look all the more enticing were they wrapped around his dick.  
  
"You two have been boffing, are about to boff or might even be boffing underneath the table right now.”  
  
That snaps Harry out of his lust induced trance and thank god because Louis is starting to look annoyed. They both turn to greet this unmistakably Irish newcomer who looks like he leapt straight out of an Irish folktale. The brunette boy has a quirky little hat which Harry detests on sight and an acoustic guitar strapped securely to his chest.  
  
"Excuse me?" Louis spits out, expression puzzled. "What did you just say? Did you just say we were _boffing_?"  
  
"Who are you?" Harry adds, confused as to why this guy has struck up a random conversation with them both.  
  
"Niall." He holds his hand out in front of Harry first who shakes it warily. "Niall Horan. I'm just looking to make a few friends here before classes start. Either of you study music?"  
  
"I do." Louis says, then flashes Harry an immediate look of regret.  
  
Harry fails to smother his laughter. It comes to an abrupt halt when Niall drops down beside him and throws an arm around his shoulders. Louis smirks at him triumphantly.  
  
"Great! What did you say your name was?"  
  
"I didn't," Louis laughs. "But I'm Louis, and this is Harold. We're roommates."  
  
"Harry," He corrects quietly to which Louis responds by kicking him in the shin, the little bastard.  
  
"Cool!" Niall grins, glancing between them. "So are you two boffing or what?"  
  
"Who even says _boffing_ anymore?" Louis scoffs. "What are you, fifty?"  
  
Niall doesn't look even the slightest bit offended. He shrugs. Dragging Louis' plate over to him, he begins picking at Louis' breakfast.  
  
"I wasn't done with that, mate." Louis says, through gritted teeth.  
  
Niall shoves a whole piece of bacon into his mouth then slides the plate back.  
  
"Sharing is caring though, innit? Friends _share_ , Louis."  
  
Louis guffaws.  
  
"Oh we're friends now, are we?"  
  
The Irish boy looks confused. He looks to Harry for guidance, like the two of them are a unit and _Louis_ is the outsider. He nudges Harry with his elbow.  
  
"Is your boyfriend usually this standoffish?"  
  
Harry chokes on his spit.  
  
"We're not--he's not my boyfriend and we're not 'boffing', okay? We just met."  
  
"Doesn't seem that way." Niall shakes his head, apparently unconvinced. "When I walked up here it looked like you wanted to eat him alive."  
  
Harry chokes again but Louis, the traitorous bastard, bursts into rapturous laughter.  
  
"I think I might be starting to like you Niall." He says with a playful wink.  
  
Harry huffs. Meanwhile Niall's facial expression tells Harry all he needs to know. Receiving Louis' praise is all Irish needs to live right now. Kind of like how Tinkerbell is about applause.  
  
"Thank you Louis, that’s much better. Not so standoffish." He beams, ignoring Harry completely.  
  
Louis looks torn between irritation and begrudging endearment.  
  
"You should never steal my food and you should never say the word 'boffing'. Are we clear?”  
  
Niall nods, steadfast, as though this is the most sacred promise he’ll ever be asked to keep. Disappointing Louis is not an option. Such is the magic of meeting him, Harry finds.  
  
"Understood. Now can one of you explain this weird thing the two of you have got going on. Surely you must be dating.”

"We're not." Louis silences him with a look. "And we never will be. I don't date my roommates."  
  
_Fuck_. Well there goes that last glimmer of hope. Lost to the wind. Harry hadn’t even begun to _try_ yet. He hasn’t had a chance to properly woo the boy of his dreams and he's already been shut down by him. What a day.   
  
"Oh." Is all Niall says.  
  
It's surprising, given his lack of silence thus far.  
  
When Harry glances sideways, he finds Niall's eyes already on him, studying him intently. He raises his eyebrows at him, as if he knows exactly what Harry's thinking. It’s unnerving, to say the least.  
  
"And I don't date gorgeous boys with pretty eyes," Harry sighs, winking at Louis.   
  
No one said he couldn't flirt like his life depends on it. It's worth it to see the way Louis blushes, expression adorably abashed.  
  
"Oh shucks, Styles." He says, in an embarrassing Southern accent.  
  
Niall's eyes float between them like he's watching a particularly riveting tennis match.  
  
"You two are something else." He says when silence finally reigns supreme. "I feel like I'm in a movie.”

"What kind?" Louis asks, chewing on a carrot stick he stole from Harry's plate.

Obviously, he's not as disgusted by Harry's diet as he looked. Obviously the two of them sharing food is wholly different to the thought of Louis and _Niall_ sharing food. Obviously, Harry isn't bothered either way.  
  
"Isn't it obvious Lou?" Harry butts in, gently nudging Louis' foot beneath the table. "We're a chick flick."  
  
*-*-*  
  
That night after their first day of classes, Louis tells Harry all about the boy he shares most of his classes with, Liam Payne. Liam's an aspiring songwriter, just like Louis but his methods are very different. It became problematic when Liam suggested they work together on their first assignment.  
  
"He just like--dove straight in Haz." He huffs. "It was like he already had it all worked out in his mind."  
  
"And you didn't?" Harry questions. "You needed more time?"  
  
He rolls his eyes.  
  
"Well when you put it like that...look, it's not that I'm slow Harold, I just don't have a constant stream of ideas coming out me ears."  
  
"I get that." Harry nods along, fingering the chain around his neck. A paper aeroplane dangles from the middle. "We can't just snap our fingers and produce ideas out the ends of our fingertips."  
  
"Exactly!" Louis crows, dramatically flopping back against Harry's lap. "I knew you'd get me from the minute I saw you Harold Styles."  
  
"Harry." He corrects unnecessarily. "And I still don't see the problem you have working with Liam. So you work at different speeds, that doesn't mean you can't produce something amazing together."  
  
"He's doing all of the writing though." Louis complains, pouting. "I just wanted to contribute."  
  
Harry's face shows his concern. He touches his fingertips to Louis' temple and gently sifts through the ends of his hair. It's very relaxing, although perhaps a little bit too intimate for two people that've known each other less than a day.  
  
"He wouldn't let you?"  
  
"Not really," Louis admits, all sullen. "I told him I wanted some more time to collect my ideas before I wrote anything down. He said that was fine. But when I looked at his page, he'd already written down most of the song."  
  
"Maybe he was brainstorming? Maybe he wants to merge his lyrics with yours?"  
  
"Maybe..." He remains unconvinced, biting down hard on his lower lip. "I just feel like maybe he's too different from me. He's so...bookish and intense. I couldn't really get a proper laugh out of him."  
  
"Hmm," Harry hums, skating a hand across Louis' knee where it's tucked up against the wall. "I think maybe you just need more time to get used to each other. It's never easy working with new people but it's a big part of the industry you're interested in joining."  
  
"That's true." Louis agrees, slightly sobered by the truth. "I guess I have to make the best out of this arrangement with Payne."  
  
"I guess so."  
  
"How were your classes Harold?" Louis turns his face against Harry's leg, biting gently at his denim clad thigh. "Bet you knocked 'em all dead."  
  
Harry lightly runs his fingers through the crest of Louis' hair. It feels so good he doesn't think he can keep his eyes open much longer. Harry chuckles quietly, presumably at his fondness for people playing with his hair.  
  
"What?" Louis mumbles, slurring his words. "Wass-so-funny?"  
  
"Believe it or not I had a similar problem in my classes." Harry tells him, quiet amusement lacing his tone. "Christ, it's like no one's ever played with your hair before."  
  
"No one has!" Louis whines, though it’s not strictly true. "What do you mean you had the same issue?"  
  
"The guy I'm supposed to work with on my first assignment is my polar opposite. Zayn. He’s just...he's too laid back. It’s frustrating. You'd probably be more suited to working with him than I am, actually. How’s this…I'll swap you Zayn for Liam?"  
  
Louis laughs softly, feeling drowsy.  
  
"How can anybody possibly be _too_ laidback? Surely, he’s not that bad."  
  
"He smelled of weed, Lou! It was coming off him in waves. And when I asked him what country he wanted to do he said, "the term 'country' is such an _arbitrary_ concept. Why are you so fixated on it Harry?" As if these 'arbitrary concepts' aren’t the focus of our whole assignment!"  
  
"Okay I see your point."  
  
Harry scratches at his scalp which has him close to purring. Despite his efforts to contain it, a soft mewl escapes his lips. Louis buries his teeth in Harry's thigh as a distraction.  
  
"Thank you."  Harry says, voice gruff. "For agreeing with me."  
  
"Welcome Harold." Louis winks at him. "Although I'm only agreeing with you for the free head massage."  
  
Harry laughs and pinches his waist.  
  
"Give it a rest, smart ass."  
  
Louis solemnly shakes his head.  
  
"Never."  
  
They spend the rest of the night lounging in Harry’s bed, binge watching The Walking Dead. Harry doesn't hesitate to put an arm around his shoulders halfway through the first episode and Louis' not shy about cuddling into his side either. It's only been one day but it doesn't feel like any new friendship Louis’ ever had. It's supposed to be awkward because they don't know each other's histories. It’s supposed to be tense with the uncertainty of not knowing each other’s sense of humour. Somehow, it’s just…not. It's comfortable between them. There’s a level of ease here that Louis has searched for, for what feels like a very long time. He mustn't screw it up with sex or feelings.

After a few too many episodes and Harry falling asleep on his shoulder repeatedly, Louis ousts himself from the bed with a dramatic groan.  
  
"You're too good at cuddling Styles, I might have to keep you."  
  
Harry grins at this, obviously pleased. Then his face turns soft and pleading.  
  
"Sweet dreams Lou." He whispers. "Have sweet dreams."   
  
Louis wants to ask him why he looks so sad, all of a sudden but something deep down inside prohibits him from doing so.  
  
"You too Harold." He murmurs. "Dream of my sweet, sweet face."  
  
Harry laughs and waggles his eyebrows.  
  
"How 'bout I dream of your sweet, sweet bum instead?"  
  
Louis throws a pillow at his face which he catches, then pretends to sniff. Louis chokes back imminent laughter.  
  
"You're a menace Styles, an absolute menace."  
  
"Right back at you Tomlinson. Now get some sleep. You look like you could use it.”  
  
Louis flips him the bird but rolls over semi-obediently anyway. He is surprisingly exhausted. That must be why his eyes droop closed almost immediately. The sweet cusp of sleep drags him straight under.  
  
*-*-*  
  
Harry doesn't sleep. Not a wink in three hours. He's too on edge waiting for Louis to make a sound in his sleep. It doesn't come. Not at first. Then, a couple of hours in Louis starts tossing and turning fitfully inside his bed. The sound of him thrashing about quickly reaches Harry's ears. He finds Louis' expression crumpled with imagined torment.  
  
"Please." He begs, eyes screwed shut tight. " _Please_ help me."  


Harry foolishly thought he'd be better equipped to handle this, knowing Louis a bit better now. Yet that there is the crux of the problem. Louis isn’t just some nameless roommate who makes Harry's heart ache. Now he's _beautiful_ Louis with the brash accent and fierce wit. He’s Louis with the crinkly eyes and big dreams of becoming a songwriter. Louis, who's already a firm friend to Harry and if circumstances permitted, someone who could be so much more. It's painful to see him so twisted up with fear. There's a blissful beat of silence before Louis cries out in alarm.  
  
"Please help me. They're killing them. Please!" He screams.  
  
It fades into a raspy sob that twists Harry’s insides into painful knots. His heart stops, then picks back up again faster than before. Did Louis really just say that?  Because if Louis' nightmares are what Harry thinks they are, then he's been the victim of some kind of terrible trauma and Harry doesn't actually know if his heart can handle that. Louis is a survivor but of what Harry's not exactly sure.  
  
"I can't..." Louis sounds like he's about to retch. It makes Harry sit up in panic. "There's so much blood. I need to save them." He cries, sobbing freely.  
  
Harry doesn't hesitate this time. There would be no humanity in that. He walks over to Louis' bed and crouches beside him, grabbing Louis' hands in his and squeezing hard. Too hard, perhaps because Louis' eyes fly straight open. He sits up straight away, completely rigid. There's a moment of pause, a startled breath and then he screams. He screams so loud, the sound of it is piercing. So much so, Harry imagines it splitting the air molecules around them clean in two, all those particles making way for this stratospheric sound. Louis’ stratospheric pain.  
  
"No, Lou! No," Harry hushes him, grabbing hold of his shoulders. "Louis, look at me.”

But he doesn't. He can't. Those darling blue eyes are blank and bleary, like he just can't find a way through the haze of his nightmare. He has a hand outstretched in front of him, opening and closing like he's feeling around for something to use as a weapon. It's too much. Harry feels sick. His heart is in his throat and all he wants is for this to be over. All he wants is for Louis to stop making that god awful noise. It sounds more manic and less human the longer it goes on. There are angry fists beating on the walls and even angrier voices rising up all over the hall. Telling them to shut the hell up. Harry has no choice but to break Louis out of this, even if it's not the right thing to do. He has to wake Louis up.

"Lou, babe." Harry gently cups his cheeks, digging his fingers in to the edges of his scalp and scratching lightly. "You've got to stop screaming. I need you to come back to me love, _please_."

The noise continues but the scream tapers off into more of a howl, Louis’ chest rising and falling quickly with the effort of keeping it up. His soft cheeks are wet and sticky with the salt of his tears. There’s a good ten minutes spent trying to rouse him before Harry ultimately decides to throw in the towel.

"Obviously this is not working.” He mutters, feeling utterly lost. "Shit Lou, I'm so sorry."  
  
He reaches out to cup Louis' shoulder, kneading it quietly. Then it occurs to him. Perhaps last night wasn't a one off. Perhaps his touch really is the key.  
  
"I'm sorry to manhandle you like this, love.” The pad of Harry’s thumb ghosts over the rounded apple of Louis' cheek. "But let me tell you, your vocals are quite impressive. I mean, the pair of lungs on you!”  
  
Louis doesn't respond. Obviously. What with him being unconscious and all. He's a bit like the walking dead actually, which is ironic given Louis' unfettered enthusiasm for the show. Harry sits on the edge of his bed with him and pulls Louis into his lap, similar to the night before. Only this time he supports Louis fully, face to face, with one hand gently cupping the back of his head. The other rests protectively on the small of his back.

The effect is almost immediate. Harry finds himself with a lapful of calm, boneless Louis and the room is silent once again. He’s pliant against Harry, arms hanging down over his shoulders, legs wrapped around him in a similarly loose embrace. There's a sense of defeat in the way he embraces Harry, head bowed, muscles devoid of any of the tension that had been holding them taut before. It's as though all his strings have been cut, the resulting fight finally having left his body. Harry could not be more relieved.  
  
By the same token, he wonders how he can possibly keep this up every night for the next year, let alone the next four. He'll have to tell Louis the truth sometime so they can sort something out. Louis needs some kind of therapy and Harry needs... he needs never to see him in that kind of pain ever again. Somehow the thought of telling Louis still seems worse than the alternative though. The way that Louis panicked when Harry mentioned it this morning gives the indication that it's been a problem before. A big problem, too.

Harry doesn't want to be the one to break the news that it's a problem again. He saw the awful insecurity in Louis' expression and he doesn't want to put it back there. He never wants Louis to feel like a burden or an embarrassment, especially when it's blatantly untrue. If that means holding him in his sleep and chasing away his nightmares every god damn night, Harry will. He’ll do that for this boy. It makes little sense given that they’ve just met but Harry finds himself thinking he'd do anything to keep this boy smiling. He'd do anything to give Louis the sweet dreams he so deserves. If all that's required of him is a few cuddles, he's pretty sure he can manage.

As if wanting to have some input, Louis sighs sleepily and smacks his lips together.  
  
"Safe now?" he whispers.  
  
Harry holds him closer. His lips find the crown of Louis' head.  
  
"Yes Lou, you’re safe now. You’re safe with me, I promise.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts x
> 
> ALL CAPS and dramatic, over the top commentary is welcome ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Zayn! Liam! And Moo! Featuring Harry's huge erection ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the cat video I refer to..  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Bmhjf0rKe8
> 
> This is not the cat video I refer to but it's probably my favourite one ever. It always makes me think of Larry cuddling :') I think it's especially pertinent to this fic.   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vw4KVoEVcr0
> 
> Despite my frivolous use of the word 'daddy' in this chapter, there is no daddy kink. Sorry if that's your thing!

Harry returns to his bed just thirty minutes before Louis awakens. It seems he quite determinedly slept through his alarm the first, second and third time. Thank god Louis sleeps like dead. That is when he's not having extremely traumatic nightmares about his seemingly eventful past.  
  
"Haz, you awake?" Louis mumbles, voice hazy with sleep.  
  
Harry can hear the sounds of him stretching. He mewls, displeased, as if in some kind of conflict with his own sleepy muscles. It makes Harry want to cuddle him down into those crisp white sheets of his.  
  
"No." Harry pouts, refusing to open his eyes.  
  
His rambunctious roommate giggles.  
  
"Open your eyes Harold. Sleeping people don't talk."  
  
_If only you knew._  
  
Louis' comment pretty much confirms Harry's worst fear; Louis doesn't remember anything from last night or the night before. Surely if he did he wouldn't be so blasé about it all.  
  
"Never," Harry groans, then opens his eyes anyway.  
  
Louis is curled onto his side with a closed fist resting beneath his cheek. His sleep ruffled hair partially obscures his hazy blue eyes.  
  
"Nice hair Lou." He teases gently.  
  
Louis blushes bright pink and hides his head beneath the covers.  
  
"Don't look at me, I'm hideous."  
  
It mostly sounds like he's joking but Harry instantly flashes back to the first night he got here. He remembers the clothes strewn across the floor, the desperation hidden in amongst the disarray. He remembers thinking whoever left all that mess behind must be dealing with some serious insecurities.  
  
"I like it. You look good all messed up."  
  
Harry doesn't realise the possible connotations of the words until Louis’ smirking face reappears above the covers.  
  
"You want to mess me up Styles? Is that it?"  
  
His little sardonic smirk is so pretty, so _bloody_ persuasive, Harry barely stands a chance. All he can do is counter.  
  
"I dunno. Do you like to be ruined Tomlinson?"  
  
The other boy blushes fervent pink, his eyes straying very obviously from Harry's. Harry takes that as a yes. It's somewhat satisfying, knowing he's finally got the upper hand. Still he’s haunted by the image of Louis, naked, debauched and splayed out across the same sheets he’s tangled in now. It has an invigorating effect on Harry's morning wood meaning what was a semi is now a full blown hard on.  
  
"Shut up," Louis mumbles, lips upturned. "You're such a creep Styles."  
  
It hits a nerve. Harry wonders if he really is a creep. _I spent the night in your bed,_ Harry should say. _You don't even remember it, do you?_  
  
"How did you sleep?" He ventures instead, because subtlety is key here. Obviously.  
  
"Like the dead." His roommate replies, face devoid of any concern.  
  
_If only you knew. If only you knew. If only you knew_. That phrase plays on repeat in the back of Harry's mind, a quiet reminder that this can only go on so long before he's forced to divulge the terrible truth.  
  
"Do you want to come get breakfast with me?"  
  
Louis takes his time in answering, stretching his limbs out again and yawning cutely. It's a delicate affair. One that makes Harry feel he should forget about breakfast altogether and just snog Louis senseless.  
  
"Sure...but you're going to have to carry me." Louis grins at him deviously.

Harry still has to ask...  
  
"You can't be serious?"  
  
The smaller boy stretches his arms up over his head and grins at him, all toothy. His shirt rides up with his movements, exposing too much of that soft, tan skin for Harry to be able to think straight. It's just plain unfair, is what it is.  
  
"I'm waaaaiting," Louis trills, wiggling his outstretched fingers then breaks into a giggle immediately after.

 Stretched out in that position, he reminds Harry of this one particular cat video. In the video, the cat stretches its body out while the owner tickles her until she curls up again. Harry decides it's important to test his developing theory that Louis is, in fact an overgrown kitten. He makes his way over to Louis' bed and reaches his hands out towards the smaller boy's sides. As if to pick him up. Louis' face lights up so instantly and so brightly, Harry almost feels guilty for what he's about to do. Then Louis speaks.  
  
"You're such a good little bitch."  
  
Harry launches his attack with Louis in prime position, arms still stretched overhead. His fingers go straight for Louis' waist, digging in slightly. He's willing to bet that Louis is insanely ticklish in this exact spot. The moment his fingers dig in, it’s confirmed. Louis downright squeals and violently, albeit unsuccessfully, tries to shove Harry's hands away from his body. Even with Louis’ bouts of helpless laughter, Harry won't let up. As predicted, Louis curls in on himself, looking endearingly overwhelmed. His eyes have gone murky blue with tears and his voice is starting to turn croaky from all the laughter Harry keeps eliciting.  
  
"Harold, please!" He begs, dissolving into laughter once more. "I'll do _anything_."  
  
_Will you let me kiss you quiet like I've wanted to since we met?_  
  
"Will you stop acting like a bratty little shit?"  
  
"Not. Little." Louis manages, to which Harry responds by increasing his efforts.  
  
"Okay, okay...maybe a lil...little." He huffs, shaking with barely supressed laughter. "I'll stop. I promise. Just get off me. Please."  
  
Harry does. Immediately.  
  
"Now you're _my_ bitch. Got it?"  
  
Louis looks exhausted from all the failed attempts to defend himself. He's splayed out like a starfish with his top lying halfway up his stomach and his hair like a half-sucked lemon upon his head.  
  
"You're a worthy competitor, Styles. I'll give you that." He pants.  
  
Harry's not sure he's ever seen anyone who makes patchy pink cheeks and sweaty hair look so good. Louis is so damn sinful. Harry finds himself imagining other ways he might achieve the same effect. Most of them involve a lot less clothing and a lot more skin on skin contact. Damn it, his erection had just started to flag.  
  
"Are you--hard?" Louis looks strangely fascinated and maybe even a bit flummoxed by the sight of Harry's thick cock tenting his joggers.  
  
"It's early." Harry lies. That has so little to do with it at this point. "Sue me."  
  
_Or blow me_ , whichever you'd prefer.  
  
Louis only adds to Harry's dirty train of thought by licking across his bottom lip in what feels like slow motion, his eyes trained on Harry's dick. With all of Louis' bountiful attention focused on it, his dick seems just as keen to meet Louis as Harry was that very first night. It jerks in his pants, blurting precome. Thank god it doesn't seem to be visible from the outside.   
  
"Okay I think we should go get breakfast now," Harry says, attempting to cut through all the thick tension in the room.

He takes a step back from Louis.

"Like that?" Louis is incredulous, eyeing up Harry's dick in a way that makes Harry's whole body feel warm. "You can't go like that."  
  
Harry shrugs.  
  
"Okay, no biggie. I'll take a cold shower first."  
  
Louis looks for all the world like he's just as turned on as Harry, barring the massive erection. That can't be right though. Louis’ already made his lack of interest in Harry very clear.   
  
"A cold shower? You're not going to..."  
  
He trails off, bitting his lip in a savage show of temptation. Harry hears the rest of the sentence, though it remains unspoken.  
  
_You're not going to pull one off?_  
  
"Um...."  
  
"Sorry!" Louis leaps up, latching onto Harry's biceps. He digs his fingernails in. "Harry, I didn't mean it."  
  
_Didn't mean what you said or didn't mean to say it out loud_? Harry would love to know. Louis' proximity is not helping the situation in his pants right now though. If he's not careful, he'll blow his load right here.  
  
"It's okay Lou." Harry's tense expression gives way to a cocky grin. "I know you've probably never seen a dick this big."  
  
Harry probably shouldn't assume that Louis is gay just because he takes pride in his appearance or seems relatively flamboyant. Then again it's neither of those stereotypes that actually convinced him of the fact. It's the way Louis looked at his erection just now, as though figuring out how much of it he could take. It's a fanciful thought, one which would challenge Louis’ lack of interest in him but maybe Harry did get it wrong. Louis didn’t _exactly_ say Harry wasn't his type. He didn’t say that Harry wouldn't make a fine boyfriend. He just said he doesn't usually date his roommates. They've really only known each other a short time. There's plenty of time to change that.

Louis rolls his eyes at Harry's display of manhood but presses even closer than before. His thigh grazes Harry's erection, sending shockwaves throughout his entire body. Louis looks up at him from beneath feathered eyelashes, as though he knows exactly what he's doing. Harry has no doubt he does. It reminds him how little control he has over this situation. This boy uses his body like a lethal weapon, the call of it too strong for anyone to wilfully resist.

It’s surprising though. For someone so self-conscious, Louis is surprisingly bold. It’s part of what makes his personality so addictive. There’s something compelling about the contrast between his outer vivaciousness and inner vulnerability. Harry never wants to tame the minx like creature who teases him so boldly. He never wants to see that kind of irrepressible wildness retreat. By the same token he wants to draw out more of Louis’ other side; the side that holds his open sense of trust for Harry and his constant need to be touched. It’s a balancing act, Harry supposes. He’s forced to balance the vibrancy of Louis’ personality with his own desire to see what’s behind it.

"I have actually. Seen guys bigger than you." Louis says and wraps a delicate hand around Harry's waist. Sinking his nails in to Harry’s flesh, he leans up to whisper in his ear. "I can take _that_ and a whole lot more.”

“See you at breakfast," he laughs and sashays right out the room.

There's no doubts in Harry's mind as to what he meant by that. The nerve of the boy, _christ_. He's going to kill Harry by the end of semester. With that cheery thought, Harry makes his way to the shower to deal with the growing problem in his pants. An embarrassing two minutes later, he watches his release run down the drain. It's pretty clear that Louis had the aim of settling the score between them. It's also pretty clear that he damn well succeeded.  
  
Harry-1 Louis-1  
  
*-*-*  
  
Louis is happily enjoying the thick stack of pancakes Harry collected for him when he’s rudely elbowed in the side.  
  
"Shit, Zayn is headed our way. Lou, what do we do?!"  
  
"Who's Zayn?" Niall bellows, louder than a steam train barrelling down the tracks.  
  
"Shh Niall!" Harry hisses, face turning red.

It makes Louis chuckle.

"Why do we have to do anything?” He says. “He looks chill."  
  
Harry looks like he wants to pull his own hair out. Or perhaps Louis', if the way he's glaring at him is any indication. It's a stark contrast to the way he’d looked at him earlier when it seemed like desire was his prime motivation. Louis knew in that moment Harry wanted him. He knew, because he wanted Harry right back. However he has to ask himself now, in what _capacity_ does Harry want him? Is it for pleasure or is it personal?

It shouldn't matter because they live together and hooking up with someone you live with is a recipe for disaster. Plain and simple. So why does Louis find himself searching Harry's eyes for clues? Why does he find himself inexplicably drawn to this odd boy with the gentle green eyes and even more gentle touch? This boy who's now muttering to himself angrily as another boy with dark shiny hair and almond eyes approaches. Zayn, Louis presumes.  
  
"Oh great, he's seen us. Thanks a lot Niall!"  
  
"You're welcome." Niall grins, completely oblivious to Harry's growing consternation.  
  
Louis shoves his shoulder.  
  
"Oh stop it, grumpy bum. He can't be that bad."  
  
Harry pouts silently, watching with baleful eyes as the other boy makes his way across the cafeteria towards them. Louis finds that the closer the boy gets, the more mesmerising he becomes. He's built extraordinarily well, with long, sculpted legs and elegant, porcelain features. The sharpness of his jaw is framed perfectly by well-maintained stubble on both sides. He's wearing dark form fitting jeans and a leather jacket that pulls tight across his upper body.  
  
Louis smacks Harry across the arm.  
  
"You didn't tell me he was hot!"  
  
Harry's head spins so fast he must get whiplash. His gaze is hot on Louis' face, searing him slightly.  
  
"You think he's hot, do you?"  
  
Louis swallows noisily. Harry follows it with his gaze, eyes pinned to Louis' neck.  
  
"Um. Yeah?"  
  
"Right." Harry says in a soft exhale, turning away from him swiftly.  
  
Louis looks at Niall as if to say "what'd I do?" Apparently, Niall is more clear on it than him because he rolls his eyes and mouths _poor Harry._  
  
"Hey Harry, how are you?" Zayn walks up beside them, a plate of sliced fruit in his hands.  
  
Harry smiles at him, half hearted.  
  
"Hello mate, I’m alright thanks. Yourself?"  
  
"Peachy, absolutely peachy." Zayn nods, eyes fixed very seriously on Harry's face. "I went for a walk in the gardens this morning and meditated beneath a lemon tree. Now my Zen has been restored."  
  
Louis' cheeks wobble with laughter as he watches Harry try to fight to maintain the same seriousness as Zayn.  
  
"Right. That's um...lovely."  
  
"Yes. Quite." He smiles at each of them then, paying extra attention to Louis. "Hello. Who are you? Has anyone ever told you that your eyes are completely breathtaking?"  
  
Louis' smirk grows. He's not exactly displeased with the attention he's receiving from Zayn, who looks like an actual god. That being said, he's completely uninterested in taking it any further. Zayn may be pretty but he's a bit too sincere for Louis' taste. A bit too philosophical. Harry clearly thinks so too as he's staring at them both in blatant disbelief  
  
"I'm Louis, lovely to meet you." He stretches out a hand which Zayn grasps firmly. "And no, no one's ever told me that before."  
  
Harry mutters something incoherently.  
  
"Watch it mate." Niall pipes up. "These two are a thing."  
  
"Oh." Zayn drops Louis' hand. However, his catlike smile doesn't retreat. "That's okay. I was just paying him a compliment. I didn't mean anything by it, I promise."  
  
He squeezes Harry's shoulder whose angry expression fades at the contact. He pats Zayn on the hand.  
  
"It's okay. We're not....a thing anyway. We share a dorm room. That's it."  
  
Louis frowns.  
  
“That's it?"  
  
Harry rolls his eyes.  
  
"You know what I meant." He says placatingly, squeezing Louis' thigh beneath the table.  
  
He makes to pull his hand away but Louis traps it there. He likes the heavy weight of it upon his leg. Harry flashes him a wide-eyed look which Louis ignores in favour of inviting Zayn to sit with them.  
  
"Might as well join our little crew. Niall here is our newest recruit."  
  
Harry pinches his inner thigh. Louis elbows him back.  
  
"Hi Niall, nice to meet you. How do you feel about joining me in a spiritual connection?"  
  
"Mate, I feel like the closest I ever come to connecting with my spirit is when I'm several pints down and absolutely legless."  
  
Harry and Louis burst into abrupt laughter, wiping tears of mirth from their eyes. Zayn just stares at Niall with a perplexed look on his face, as if the Irish boy is some kind of unfathomable alien. It might not be so far from the truth. The moment is broken when a muscled figure ambles up to Louis' side.  
  
"Hey Louis."  
  
He turns his head a fraction and finds none other than Liam Payne looking back at him, a polite smile pursed on his lips.  
  
"Liam mate, how are ya?" He tries, hoping the casual setting will loosen the other boy up.  
  
"Good thank you. How's the writing coming along?"  
  
Harry's hand tightens across his thigh, trying to restrain Louis from saying something he might regret.  
  
"It's coming," Louis says through clenched teeth. "I'm just full of brilliant ideas."  
  
"Great!" Liam beams, oblivious. "I can't wait to see what you've come up with!"  
  
"Oh goody." Louis mutters, just loud enough for Harry to hear.  
  
Harry pinches him, leaning over him to shake Liam's hand.  
  
"Liam mate, I'm Harry. This is Niall, and Zayn." He gestures to each of them. "Why don't you join us for breakfast?"  
  
"I'd love to, thank you."  
  
Louis shoots him a glare. Harry mouths _payback_ with a gleeful smirk.  
  
"Actually Zayn and I already know each other." Liam says proudly, squeezing himself in between the dark-haired boy and Niall.  
  
"You do?" Harry and Louis say at the same time, both equally puzzled.  
  
Liam Payne, the uptight, level headed perfectionist and Zayn Malik, the weed smoking philosopher? They could not be more different from each other. Harry and Louis’ confusion only increases when Liam snipes a berry off Zayn's plate, the other boy rewarding him with a patient but loving smile.  
  
"Yes, Liam and I are together." Zayn answers, nuzzling into Liam's neck.   
  
Harry and Louis wear equally shocked expressions on their faces. Niall takes one look at them and guffaws.  
  
"My god, look at yer faces." He waggles a pudgy finger at them. "Yer look like you've seen a ghost or summat. Haven't you ever heard the saying opposites attract?"  
  
"Opposites?" Zayn echoes, head tilted confusedly. "I thought we were quite similar actually."  
  
Liam cups his boyfriend's face, lips upturned.  
  
"Oh baby," he sighs. "We’re not similar. It’s like the Dalai Lama announced David Beckham as his boyfriend."  
  
They all burst into loud laughter. All of them, except for Zayn who still looks wildly confused. Liam takes the time to patiently explain the comparison to him, looking adorably smitten. The other boys watch on with mouths upturned.  
  
Louis is willing to concede that their breakfast crew isn't so bad. It helps that Harry's hand stays on his thigh throughout the meal, massaging him whenever his muscles go tense. It's been a long time since Louis met someone who knew exactly what he needed and when.   
  
*-*-*  
  
Harry's not surprised that on their third night together, things are no different. Louis is still restless and inconsolable without Harry's touch. Nonetheless, Harry's heart continues to shatter every time Louis makes one of his distressed, needy noises. Harry holds him until the sun rises, murmuring sweet promises in his ear. He promises that one day this will all be over. One day when Louis is ready to share his past with him, Harry will do whatever he can to make it better. He’ll chase those nightmares away for good and make sure Louis never has to feel like this again.  
  
*-*-*  
  
Louis' throat feels too dry when he wakes up. His eyes are suspiciously wet. He remembers traces of his nightmare. It was the same as it always is. Bloodied hands. Tortured screams. His own voice echoing back to him in a crazed scream for help. It shouldn't startle him the way it still does now. He's lived through that same nightmare a thousand times before. The problem is he thought it was over. The problem is he thought he'd lived through it for the last time. Oh god, what if Harry heard him?  
  
"Harry!" He shoots bolt upright in bed. "Harry, was I...okay last night?"  
  
Harry looks at him strangely, almost…guiltily. There's something wriggling around underneath his bed covers but Louis will deal with that in a moment.  
  
"Were you...okay?" Harry repeats cautiously, like he doesn't understand the question.  
  
Harry’s eyes are guarded but soft, always so damn soft. Like delicate white rose petals painted emerald green. The one thing Louis has learned about him these past few days is that Harry doesn't have a bad bone in his body.  
  
"Did I yell out or...or um. Did I…maybe, say something?" Louis bites down on his lip harshly, waiting for Harry’s reply.  
  
Harry looks at him for a long, tension fuelled moment.  
  
"No Lou." He sighs, a bit deflated. "You were fine. You didn’t make a noise all night."  
  
"I didn't even snore?"   
  
Harry shakes his head, expression unreadable.  
  
"You slept like an angel."  
  
"I am an angel," Louis jokes, winking.  
  
Harry snorts and chucks a pillow at Louis' head.  
  
"I've met criminals that are more angelic than you."  
  
It's a fair comment, really. Louis usually would have left it at that, rolled over and gone back to sleep. He would have this time too. That is if he hadn't heard the mewling coming from beneath Harry's covers.  
  
"Harry," he says steadily. "What have you got inside your bed?"  
  
"My legs.” Harry’s eyes are suspiciously wide. "There's nothing under here besides my legs."  
  
"Really?" Louis quirks an eyebrow. "Because I could have sworn I heard something meow just now?"  
  
Harry chuckles, nervously.  
  
"Sure it wasn't you Lou? You do sound an awful lot like a kitten."  
  
Louis blinks at that, taken off guard.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Harry grins, then imitates him stretching. His mouth forms an o shape as he he lets out an unmistakably high-pitched squeak.  
  
"I have never made that noise in my life!" Louis shouts, outraged.  
  
"You do it every morning!" Harry matches him in volume, lips pulled back in a goofy grin. "Don't worry, I love it."  
  
"Oh my god," Louis groans. "Why are you like this?"  
  
"I have something that might cheer you up." Harry says ominously. "I think you're ready to meet him."  
  
"Him?!" Louis screeches. "Styles, please tell me that that's not a baby under there? Because god help me--"  
  
"Of course it's not a baby! What kind of parent do you think I am?!"  
  
Louis narrows his eyes at him.  
  
"The obtuse kind."  
  
Harry pouts, offended.  
  
"I'm going to be a great dad. My kids are going to be the cutest kids on the block!"

Louis grins, picturing a whole brood of dimpled babies. He’s a little bit too fond of this boy for his own good.  
  
"Mm, they probably will be. All curly and chubby."  
  
"Chubby?" Harry blinks. "Why would they be chubby?"  
  
"Have you seen your love handles?"  
  
Harry crosses his arms over his waist, playing the part.  
  
"How very dare you."  
  
They both share a chuckle.  
  
"Can I show you your surprise now?"  
  
Louis is dubious as he eyes the lump beneath the covers.  
  
"It's for me?"  
  
"Well…kind of. He found me actually. I went on a walk before you woke up and noticed him all curled up in the corner of the park. He was all wet and way too skinny. Obviously, he doesn't have a home."  
  
"If it's for me, then why are you hiding it? And really Harold? You actually thought it would be a good idea to bring a stray animal back to our _dorm room_? Harry, we're not allowed a pet!"  
  
"Well, I had a feeling I would have to ease you into it." He grins. "And he's not a pet, Lou. He's family."  
  
Louis huffs exasperatedly.  
  
"Somehow I don't think our RA will see it the same way."  
  
"Oh c'mon Lou, look at him. He's gorgeous."  
  
With that he pulls a rangy looking kitten from beneath his doona and holds it up for Louis to see. The kitten is way too skinny with big blue eyes and thick grey fur.  
  
"Harry, look at it. It's _feral._ It could have diseases, for all you know."  
  
Harry frowns and nuzzles his head into the kitten.  
  
"You don't have diseases, do you? You're all clean."  
  
The kitten takes this opportunity to lick Harry's cheek and nuzzle him right back.  
  
"See, harmless!" Harry whines, pouting at Louis.  
  
"Mate, at the very least you need to take him to the vet. He needs to be checked out and get his shots. He probably hasn’t even been neutered.”  
  
"Oh." Harry’s crestfallen. "Right."  
  
Here Louis was thinking Harry would be the responsible parent. Not that this mangy looking kitten resembles anything even close to a child.  
  
"What's wrong now?" Louis sighs.  
  
He tries to seem unaffected but the look of pure sadness in Harry's eyes means he's fighting a losing battle.  
  
"I just...I don't think I can afford it." He sulks, eyes misty.  
  
"Oh Christ, c'mere." Louis sighs, beckoning him over.  
  
Harry practically leaps across the space between their beds, the kitten still clutched in his arms. Louis catches them both, rolling his eyes at the dramatics. Harry lets out a raspy sob then curls himself into Louis' chest.  
  
"It's okay. I'll just have to find Moo another home," he says, sniffling loudly.  
  
"Moo?" Louis asks, reeling back to look at his bleary-eyed companion. "As in...the sound cows make?"  
  
"He was chomping on some grass when I found him." Harry giggles wetly. "Like a farm animal."  
  
"Are you a vegetarian mate?" Louis asks the cat, trying to make Harry laugh. "Because you know you need to watch your iron levels."  
  
Harry snorts at Louis’ idiocy but there’s a grin stretching his cheeks wide.  
  
"Lou, what am I gonna do?" Harry mumbles, laying his head against Louis' collarbone. "He's my baby, I can't give him up."  
  
_You're ridiculous_ , Louis wants to say, _we'll take him right back to where you found him_. But with both the droopy eyed boy and his sad little kitten staring up at him, he just can't resist.  
  
"I'll pay for him. I've got some money saved."  
  
"Lou," Harry's face opens up into pure sunshine, all traces of sorrow gone and replaced by warm affection. "You can't do that. You must have been saving it for something."  
  
He was. He was saving it for some proper, serious guitar lessons. He's been saving for a while too. The guy he wants to tutor him is the best of the best.  
  
"Nope," he lies. "It's for emergencies. Like this one."  
  
Harry looks a tad sceptical but then Moo reaches up and pats his face with a dirty paw. The boy just melts right in front of Louis’ eyes.  
  
"Okay," he agrees, patting Moo's furry little head. "Only if you're sure."  
  
"I am," Louis sighs, dismayed.  
  
Since when does he cave to puppy dog eyes and mangy little kittens?  
  
"Good. Because he's yours now too!" Harry exclaims, then drops Moo in Louis’ lap.

As if he's a sack of potatoes or something.  
  
"Watch it!" Louis hisses. "He could claw me!"  
  
Harry rolls his eyes.  
  
"Oh c'mon Lou. Just because he’s a stray, doesn't mean he's feral. Look at him!"  
  
Funnily enough Moo does seem to be making a home for himself in the bottom of Louis' shirt. He settles in with his head against Louis' stomach, little grey paws stretched out across his thigh. Louis cautiously places a hand on him, stroking gently. Moo responds with a loud meow, followed by a rumbling purr.  
  
"He's purring Lou!" Harry looks to be on the edge of tears again, this time for a different reason. "He knows your his daddy."  
  
"I am not!" Louis shouts, hackles rising. "He's a ward of the state. My state! He's an orphan and I'm just providing welfare."  
  
He realises almost immediately that he shouldn't have used the word orphan. Harry picks Moo up and brings him close to Louis' face, holding him around the tummy.  
  
"Every orphan should have a new daddy." He kisses one of Moo's little ears. "C'mon Moo, give your new daddy a kiss."  
  
And sure enough, little Moo leans forward with his scratchy little tongue and licks a disgusting wet stripe up Louis' nose. Louis blinks at him in bewilderment, his nose scrunching with distaste. Moo repeats the action, earning a groan from Louis and a loud giggle from Harry.  
  
"He loves you so much Lou.”  
  
Louis takes the little thing from Harry's hands where it's starting to wriggle desperately, trying to get away. He holds Moo in his hands for a moment, staring him dead in the eye.  
  
"We don't lick people, okay? Especially not daddy. I mean...Louis." He stammers. Harry wears a smug grin. "If you lick me again, your actual father is going to cop it. We clear?"  
  
Moo meows and bumps his head against Louis' face. Louis bumps back, a little bit endeared.  
  
"Good boy."  
  
*-*-*  
  
"Lou, Moo needs a bath."  
  
"And you're telling me this, why?" Louis says, not looking up from his textbook.  
  
"Because." He can hear the pout in Harry's voice. "You said you'd be his other parent. It's been a week and you've skimped on all the hard stuff. You get all the cuddles and I have to wrangle him when he acts up. How is that fair?"  
  
"Seriously?" Louis can only laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. "I never promised to co-parent that _fluffball_. I promised to pay for him, which I have. And it's not my fault that I'm his favourite. Maybe you should stop trying to wrangle him so much. He'd probably like you more."  
  
"Lou," Harry whines.

His droopy bottom lip is an impressive display of pitifulness.  
  
Louis' kind of tempted to bite down on it, then kiss the pain better. He banishes the thought instantly when he remembers the implications of getting involved.  
  
"I'm kind of in the middle of an assignment. How about you bathe him today and I'll bathe him next time. Deal?"  
  
Harry sulks a bit. Fetching Moo from his scratching post, he curls an arm around the kitten while shooting Louis a sad little look.  
  
"Daddy doesn't love you like I do," he murmurs, loud enough for Louis to hear. "Daddy’s a big fat arse.”  
  
"No, daddy _has_ a big fat arse," Louis corrects, grinning cheekily.  
  
Harry can't hide the dimple trying to twitch its way into place.  
  
"Well that's true," He chuckles.  
  
Harry takes Moo over to the pot of water on the floor, smirking to himself. As he washes the kitten, he makes a show out of singing Sir Mix-a-Lot. Or his new and improved version, anyway.  
  
"Lou’s got a big butt and he cannot lie, you other brothers can't deny that when Lou walks in with an itty bitty waist and a round thing in your face, you get sprung!"  
  
It's very distracting.  
  
"You're embarrassing." Louis tells him. "And you're traumatising poor Moo. He doesn't want to hear about my big fat arse. This is exactly like when Rachel and Ross sang it to Emma."  
  
"Is it now?" Harry quirks a curious eyebrow. They're both big Friends fans and Louis' not surprised he caught on so quickly. "So you do fancy yourself as Moo's dad?"  
  
"Well..." Louis bites down on a smile. "He needs one sane parent, now doesn't he?"  
  
Harry calmly takes Moo out the bath and plants him on the towel he'd laid out beside it. He picks up the pot of water and advances on Louis with a predatory smirk.  
  
"I'm sorry you have to see this Moo but daddy really needs to learn to watch his mouth."  
  
"No," Louis squeaks. "Please Harry."  
  
He backs into the corner of his bed because there's nowhere else to go, shuddering in anticipation.  
  
"Moo, save me."  
  
Moo gives him an uninterested look and licks his paw. He seems a bit preoccupied trying to flatten down the mohawk Harry gave him.  
  
"Moo can't save you now." Harry gives an evil laugh. "No one can."  
  
Louis fears he might be right. He closes his eyes, waiting for the lukewarm water to hit. Instead he hears the metal clang of the pot hit the ground before Harry is on top of him, squeezing him tightly.  
  
"What are you doing?" Louis laughs.  
  
"Cuddling you," Harry pulls back. "Isn't that obvious?"  
  
"You're not cuddling me, love." Louis pats his head. "You're squeezing me half to death."  
  
"Oh." Harry's arms slacken. "Sorry."  
  
Louis chuckles.  
  
"It's alright. How bout I put my textbooks away and we have a proper cuddle, hey?"  
  
"With Moo?" Harry asks hopefully.

He's been trying to orchestrate a cuddle session with the three of them for the past week.  
  
"With Moo." Louis agrees.  
  
They both beckon to Moo who stares at them wide eyed and unsure whether to comply. After a moment of this, the little grey kitten leaps up onto Louis' bed and crawls up his body, squishing himself into the space between Louis' neck and shoulder.

"He loves you more than me," Harry complains weakly.

He doesn't look too grumpy about it though. In fact he looks rather pleased.  
  
"I am very loveable."  
  
"Perhaps," Harry concedes quietly but his dimples are out in full force.  
  
They cuddle silently for a bit, feet tangled together. Harry's arm is loosely slung across his waist and Louis’ got a hand in his hair. Moo lies curled up on Louis’ shoulder, purring contentedly.  
  
"Lou," Harry says suddenly, a bit of urgency filling his tone.  
  
"Yeah Haz?"  
  
"Do you trust me? I know it's only been a week and a half but--"  
  
"Of course I trust you." Louis holds his gaze, scratching his scalp. "You're very trustworthy Harold. Except for when you’re sneaking strays into our dorm room without telling me."  
  
Harry chuckles at that and pulls Louis' hand against his chest. His long fingers skate over the wiry bones in Louis' wrist.  
  
"You'd tell me if something was wrong then? You’d tell me if you were going through something?"  
  
Harry's expression is sombre. It recalls all those horrifying memories Louis so wishes he could forget. The nightmares have picked up in frequency, though it still feels like something is keeping them at bay. Louis used to wake up screaming. He used to wake up feeling like he hadn't slept at all. Now he wakes up feeling rested, if not a little unsettled by the images rocketing around his brain. He used to have nightmares all night long but now it's almost like they come and go before his real dreams start. Louis chalks it up to the healing process. He chalks it up to the fact that he really is getting better.  _Screw Doctor Dick_.  
  
"Of course." Louis assures Harry. "I'd tell you."  
  
"Okay..." Harry seems off, like this whole trust issue is really bothering him. "Because I want to be your friend Lou. I can take care of you sometimes, you know."  
  
Louis lets out a disgruntled noise.  
  
"Appreciate it Harold but I don't really need taking care of. I'm a grown man."  
  
"I know." Harry agrees but his eyes are downcast, smile wobbly. "You're just so stubborn. I don't want that to stop you from talking to me, you know?"  
  
"It won't." Louis knits their fingers together. "We're going to be the dream team Haz, I promise."  
  
Harry seems to take that slightly better. He squeezes Louis' hand, a cheeky smile lifting his mouth.  
  
"God, your hands are so small! How do you even pick up anything with these?"  
  
He kisses Louis' index finger, lips shaking with laughter. It's a bit intimate for them both, yet neither of them cares enough to bring it up.  
  
Louis smacks him across the shoulder, hard.  
  
"Asshole."  
  
"Don't be like that," Harry laughs.  
  
Louis glares and turns around to face the wall, leaving Harry's hand behind him. Moo mewls and resettles himself along the curve of Louis’ neck. Harry curls his body around Louis' from behind, bringing an arm around his chest. He rests his head just behind Louis', lips grazing the nape of his neck. They fall asleep that way, Louis holding Harry’s arm around him. It doesn't occur to either of them that this might be a bit atypical for two platonic roommates. It doesn’t occur to them that their strange level of intimacy speaks volumes about their burgeoning friendship. It certainly doesn’t occur to Louis that no one’s ever made him feel as safe or as accepted as Harry. But then why would it? Repression is an art Louis has perfected.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? x


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Anne! Featuring sick Louis being adorably stubborn and protective Harry being adorably smitten ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any discussion of Mark or Troy does not have any bearing on what they're actually like in real life. Those parts are simply fiction :)
> 
> WARNING: This chapter mentions the fact that Zayn was raped. It also deals with issues of consent.

Harry starts trying to casually sneak tidbits about himself into conversations with Louis in an effort to get the other boy to open up. It's been about three weeks since they first met and Harry has yet to crack the code when it comes to his nightmares. Plus, the longer he goes without saying anything, the harder it becomes. He's only becoming more enamoured with Louis with each passing day and every time he sees that smile wilt, his body goes cold all over.

One morning he accidentally gives Louis his own tea. It has sugar in it, a crime punishable by death according to His Highness, The Royal Tea Connoisseur. Louis is practically shaking with anger when he realises Harry has already drunk the other tea, having not noticed the difference. (Maybe he should go without sugar, after all.) There are no teabags left in their communal kitchen either so Louis’ pretty much on the warpath. But then after anger, comes grief. Louis curls up in his bed, refusing to attend class and ignoring each and every one of Harry’s attempts to cheer him up. Harry tries unsuccessfully to rip the covers away from him, rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it all. Just when he’s given up and decided to head to class, Louis' head pops up from beneath his covers.  
  
"Stay with me." He pleads, his eyes a deep murky blue colour. "It's a very bad day and when it’s one of those, we stay in bed."  
  
Not only does it not make sense, it’s an overreaction and a half. Harry's book bag slips off his shoulder anyway. Silently, he gets into bed with Louis and curls up behind him, reaching out to pull him closer by the waist. Apparently a very bad day means Louis has to be spooned at all times, not to mention coddled. It’s a far cry from his usually stubborn insistence that he doesn’t need Harry or anybody else to soothe him. Yet on one of his so called Bad Days, he seems to need Harry more than ever, never allowing his attention to drift for too long before drawing it back to himself. Harry starts to wonder when this boy managed to wrap him so tightly around his little finger. Especially when, objectively speaking, he has the tiniest little fingers Harry has ever seen on a grown man.  
  
Telling him the truth now just doesn’t feel like an option. Not when Harry’s this weak for his smile, desperate to protect it at all costs. There's too much at stake here. Believe it or not, he's more concerned with protecting Louis than himself at this point. Instead he tries to trade truths with the boy; fact for fact, story for story. All the while, Louis continues to hold the most important answers close to his chest...  
  
"Hey Lou, did you know when I was little I had a huge fear of Santa?"  
  
Louis looks at him like he must be barking.

 "Santa Claus? As in the big jolly guy who delivers gifts to kids?"  
  
"He's a creepy old man who climbs down your chimney at night and sneaks around your house while your asleep!" Harry defends himself. Unnecessarily so, in his opinion.  
  
"Sounds like you're still scared of him if you ask me." Louis raises an eyebrow.  
  
Harry rolls his eyes.  
  
"Yes. You’re right. Obviously I'm scared of a mythical being that doesn't actually exist."  
  
Louis feigns his shock.  
  
"You're saying...Santa's not real?"  
  
Harry chuckles in spite of himself, shoving Louis lightly.  
  
"Oh shut up, you're not cute."  
  
Louis smirks at him like he doesn’t doubt Harry thinks the exact opposite. Harry has to get the conversation back on track.  
  
"So...Lou." He swallows. nervously. "What were you scared of as a kid?"  
  
"Nothing.” Louis quips. “I was fearless."  
  
Harry’s not amused.  
  
"Oh c'mon, I just told you my most embarrassing fear. You have to tell me yours."  
  
"I mean…” Louis pauses, biting his lip. A nervous tell if ever there was one. “I was always scared of my little sisters getting hurt, I guess?"

"Mm," Harry hums. He feels the need to show some kind of approval. "Did they get hurt easily?"  
  
"Not really, no." Louis shakes his head. "It’s just that mum always drilled it into me, you know. I knew I had to protect them. It was always, “look after your sisters, boo. Make sure the twins don't get lost.” “Tell Lottie to wear sunscreen.” “Don’t forget Fizzy needs to take her iron pill with dinner."  
  
"Boo?" Harry purses his lips in a smile, tracing his thumb over the side of Louis’ finger, the word _boo_ printed across its length. “That explains this, I s’pose.”  
  
"Oh fuck off, don't pretend your mum didn't call you something ridiculously sappy."  
  
"Oh she did." Harry nods, grinning manically. "But nothing quite as embarrassing as boo."  
  
Louis tucks his chin in and mumbles something Harry doesn’t quite catch.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
Tentatively, he raises his eyes to Harry's.  
  
"Actually…it’s boo bear, not just boo but I couldn’t get that tattooed on the side of me finger, now could I?”  
  
"Boo bear." Harry echoes, chuckling quietly. "Your mum used to call you boo bear."  
  
"Still does," Louis sighs, grimacing.  
  
Harry's laugh trumpets out of him.  
  
"God I want to meet her." He sighs, smiling dopily.  
  
"She'd probably love you. Knowing her, she’d try to marry me off to you right away.”  
  
Harry's breath stops, his heart following suit. He can’t even look at Louis, let alone laugh it away. He can’t pretend that the thought of it doesn’t fill him with a kind of desperate longing.  
  
"Really." He mumbles, smiling wonkily at the bedspread.  
  
There’s an indecently awkward pause, then Louis stutters out a  "y...yeah" and they lapse into silence again.  
  
"You worried about your sisters, you said?"  
  
Louis seems relieved at the subject change.  
  
"Yeah," he nods, eyes soft. "I felt a responsibility for them, I guess."  
  
"And that didn't get tiring?" Harry wonders aloud.  
  
"It did." Louis concedes. "But it never felt like a burden. I loved them so much and I wanted to protect them just as much as she wanted me to. I wanted to be the one person they could count on when mum wasn't around."  
  
Harry feels weak with affection. In an effort to ease the perpetual ache in his chest, he reaches over and squeezes Louis' hand tightly.

"What was that for?" Louis chokes out.  
  
Harry swallows loudly.  
  
"For being such a good big brother…and son. You’re the loveliest boy I've had the pleasure of meeting this semester."  
  
Louis looks lost for words but he reaches over and squeezes Harry's hand right back.  
  
"What was that for?" Harry echoes.  
  
Louis' mouth mirrors his barely there smile. He shrugs and flutters his long, inky black eyelashes down.  
  
"Just...making me feel good, you know?"  
  
He does know. Meeting Louis has brought so much colour to his life and so much vigour. It’s like someone added red food dye to a bottle of water. Louis’ a bright red drop in a sea of calm neutrality. He’s chaos and calamity, all tied up in one beautiful package. It scares Harry sometimes and worries him just as often. The way Louis can never quite seem to sit still, the way he obviously struggles to do anything by the book, it can be frustrating. Yet It excites him all the same, because Louis is nothing if not a character. He’s warm hearted, charming, vivacious and utterly hilarious. Yet that huge personality still can’t compare to how lovely he is when he’s just gone quiet with affection or the way he looks when he’s soft and pliant in Harry's arms. It can’t compare with his thoughtfulness and his willingness to do something for nothing, to give to others without consideration of what it might cost him.

Harry discovers Louis' extreme charitableness one rainy day when they’re trapped inside their dorm room and snuggling for warmth.  They’ve known each other six weeks now and get on like a house on fire, yet there’s still this earth splitting chasm between them, built around the heaviness of Louis’ past. Harry’s just trying to get information out of him again when the conversation leads them in an unexpected direction.  
  
"So you had a dream childhood, hey?" He murmurs, nuzzling the back of Louis' head.  
  
They’re both laying on their sides. Louis’ cuddled against his chest with Harry spooning him from behind. The rain forms sheets against the window outside, blurring the image into muted greys and pale blues. The sound of it clattering against the pavement below is more soothing than one would have thought but it has nothing on the way Louis smells, fresh from the shower and swimming in Harry’s top.  Harry wants to bury his nose in that one spot behind Louis’ ear and just inhale for a good five minutes. All of Louis’ clothes are currently in the wash--Harry needs to head down and check them on soon--which meant he’d had no other choice than to accept Harry’s offering of a lilac jumper, too large for his petite upper body and a pair of white joggers, too tight against his hips and arse. Dressed like sin and smelling so sweet, Louis couldn’t be more tempting right now if he tried.  
  
"Hmm?" He hums sleepily.  
  
"Wake up sleepy head, we're talking."  
  
Louis groans and pushes back against him in protest, effectively rubbing his arse right up against Harry’s groin. Harry winces, tightening his grip on the other boy in an attempt to stop him squirming.  
  
"No, _you're_ talking. I'm sleeping."  
  
"C'mon boo, don't be like that. I gave you cuddles when you asked." Harry pouts, squeezing his waist for emphasis.

The lilac jumper bunches up beneath his fingers.  
  
"Don't call me that," Louis growls, his voice low and raspy with the traces of his sleep. Harry tries hard not to be affected. "I didn't ask you for cuddles. I said I was cold and sleepy. _You_ decided to hijack my bed and then refused to get out."  
  
Harry snorts.  
  
"So you winding my arms around your waist and shoving your freezing feet between my legs, was what...an accident?"  
  
"Precisely." Louis sniffs.  
  
Harry chuckles, valiantly fighting the urge to leave sloppy kisses all over his roommate's tan neck.  
  
"I love it when you pretend not to be needy."  
  
He receives an elbow in his sternum for that one.  
  
"Can I sleep now?"  
  
"Nooo," Harry whines, still partially winded. “We’re talking.”  
  
"Fine.” Louis huffs, intertwining their fingers around his waist. "What do you want to talk about so badly, Harold? My childhood?"  
  
_Your childhood. Your dreams. Your fears. Whatever horrific trauma you suffered which has you trembling in my arms every night.  
_  
If only he could say that.  
  
"Yep. Yes." He nods  
  
Perhaps that’s overkill. Louis thinks so too, if his slight cough of a laugh is anything to go by.  
  
"Why would you think I had the perfect childhood?"  
  
Harry doesn’t think that. He doesn't think that about anyone, actually. No matter how perfect someone's life seems, there are always skeletons in the closest. There are usually memories they'd rather forget. Harry's not one to assume even if there isn’t. However, if making a wrong assumption is what it takes to get Louis talking, he'll do it. Because sometimes it seems like the more he assumes he knows, the more inclined Louis is to tell him the truth. Even if it is just to prove him wrong.  
  
"I don't know, you just seem really well adjusted." _Apart from the screaming nightmares_. "You have a lot of love for your family. I've never heard you say a bad word about them.”  
  
"I do love my family." Louis readily agrees. "That doesn't mean we haven’t had struggles."  
  
Harry stays silent, hoping for more.  
  
"I've had three dads, you know.” Louis’ voice is purposefully flippant. “Obviously one of those was biological. He didn't last long and to be honest, I don't really think of him as my dad at all. He's my father but not my dad. The other two…they’ve more than made up for it. In saying that, Mark and I…we have a bit of a strained relationship. I suppose you could say non-existent, actually but it was nice in the beginning."  
  
"And Mark is?"  
  
"The second man mum married. My adoptive father." He explains. "He fell in love with mum very soon after they met but mum always says I was the deciding factor. He adored me from the get go, apparently. I don't remember much from when they first met. I was only seven at the time and not very concerned with watching them make lovey dovey eyes at each other across the room. I don’t even remember him wanting to adopt me or telling me had. It’s like I don’t remember a stage of him becoming my dad, I just remember him being there, acting like one. The rest of what I remember is… not as nice. I remember when it all went sour. I remember lots of shouting. Glass breaking. Dad would shout and mum would cry. I used to climb into the wardrobe and hide in there until they stopped. I had this little stripy blanket I kept in there just in case and a stash of my favourite lollies. It was my safe place, I guess."  
  
Harry's heart feels fragmented inside his chest, his breath feels short. He can't imagine ever feeling this much for anyone else but Louis. Harry’s quite simply heartbroken by the thought of Louis ever being that afraid and at such a tender age too. No one should have to go through that. He can tell by Louis' tone that he adored his adoptive father just as much as Mark must have adored him. It would have hurt Louis deeply to see his parents’ marriage crumble right before his eyes.  
  
"That must have been really tough. I'm so sorry you went through that, babe."  
  
Harry can’t help the term of endearment which slips so easily from his mouth. It doesn’t seem like Louis minds. In fact, he seems rather comfortable with it, resting his head on Harry's bicep and dragging his cold toes up Harry's shin.  
  
"Thanks. It was definitely hard…but I, I know that I've been through much worse and survived."  
  
_What have you been through?_ Harry wants to ask. _What’s eating you up inside?_

But it isn't the time.

"Anyway...they separated and I kept seeing Mark for a while. He made a real effort with me at first. Said he didn't want to lose me the way he’d lost mum."  
  
Harry can hear the heaviness in Louis’ chest seeping into his voice. His sentences have gone weak in the middle and throaty at the ends, as if he’s only holding on by a thread.  
  
"What changed?" Harry prompts, watching Louis’ wiry ribcage rise and fall with the heaviness of each laboured breath.  
  
"I guess he decided I wasn't worth it anymore. It took about two years…things just slowly trickled out. He stopped calling, stopped asking when I was coming over. I'd call him up to ask about visiting but he’d put it off over and over until eventually Mum put her foot down. She called him up and said—“  
  
His breath suddenly gets caught in his chest and a choked sob breaks through. Harry's heart lurches dangerously. He rolls Louis over to face him but the other boy ducks his chin, eyes brimming.  
  
"Sorry I--I don't usually talk about this."  
  
"Shh, it's okay." Harry tells him firmly. "You can cry. It’s okay to cry in front of me."  
  
It was like no one’s ever said that to him before because the moment Harry does, the floodgates open. Louis’ gasping for breath and crying into Harry's chest, his shaking fingers bunched into anxious fists. Harry vacillates between stroking his hair and gently holding his wrists, pressing at the pulse points to try and anchor Louis to the present.

Eventually the sobs peter out and Louis looks up at him with patchy red cheeks and watery blue eyes. He's never looked more beautiful to Harry. Perhaps because he's never seemed so reachable or so trusting. He's never shared anything this personal and the choice he made to open himself up just now was a big one.  
  
"I'm sorry," Louis whispers, voice hoarse. "I really just---never talk about it. Even with mum. She's tried so many times but it happens to be the one thing we can't talk about. I guess because it's the one thing I don't know I’ll ever forgive her for."  
  
Harry's heart triples in size. He wants to wrap Louis in his arms and never let go.  
  
"What's that, Lou? What did she say to Mark?”

"Take him or leave him, basically.” Louis' voice starts to shake and he can’t finish retelling it at first. Harry holds out a hand for him to take. Louis does so, clutching it tight. "She told him he couldn't put off a visit from me any longer and that he had to make a decision about whether he wanted to be in my life or not. He tried to evade the question but she pressured him and pressured him until finally he gave an answer. Obviously, it wasn't the one I wanted."  
  
"But Lou--"  
  
"I know." He cuts Harry off, voice sharp. "I _know_ it's not her fault. It's his. She gave him the option and he didn't choose me. He didn't _want_ me. It's not her fault that he gave up on us. It's not her fault that the best he can offer me is a single card at Christmas and one for every birthday he can remember. Never a phone call. Never a visit. Never anything more than a half empty card with my name at the top and the meaningless title, ‘dad,’ scrawled at the bottom in messy handwriting."  
  
"Oh Lou," Harry chokes out, cupping the other boy’s tear streaked face. His thumb whispers across Louis' skin, tenderly wiping away his tears. "He broke your heart, didn't he?"  
  
"He still does." Louis' eyes flutter shut. "Every damn day."  
  
"It's not her fault, I know that.” He continues. “I just...wish she'd given it more time. I wish she'd let me speak to him instead. She backed him into a corner, made him feel like he'd done a bad job of being my parent. It didn't matter if it was true. He just didn't want to hear it, especially from her. I understand why it sent him running. I just don’t understand why he never came back."  
  
"Someone whose pride is more important than their son isn't worthy of your pain. Or anybody else’s, really.”  
  
"I know that." Louis' smile is sad and knowing. It tugs at Harry's already frayed heart. "But it doesn't hurt less just because it should. He was my dad, Harry and as much as I try not to be angry with mum for what she did, as much as I tell her that I'm not, we both know it's not true. It’s not something I'll ever get over. Not really."  
  
"I...thank you for telling me." Harry says gratefully. It feels inadequate.  
  
"Thank you for letting me cry on you." Louis giggles, rubbing at his eye.  
  
It makes for a pretty picture, his nose pink with cold, his eyes scrunched with pleasure.  
  
"The point is..." He exhales tiredly. "Despite my incredible mum, it wasn't all sunshine and daisies for me growing up. I was the kid who never knew what to say when someone asked me if I had a dad or not. Thankfully Dan came along when I was about sixteen. I don’t know how I ever would have left otherwise. He loves mum and the girls so much, I think he’d choose to suffer if it meant keeping them happy."

Harry can relate to that himself.

“And you?” He raises his eyebrows at Louis. “Does he love you too?”

Louis smiles warmly, looking every bit like the boy who finally got some sunshine and daises.

“Yeah,” he sniffs, dragging Harry’s sleeves down past his thumbs. “yeah, I think he does. He’s always on my back in the weirdest, best possible way. ‘Lou, I don’t want to overstep but have you been staying safe while you’ve been at uni? I know there must be plenty of good looking boys chasing you down’”. He imitates a man’s deep voice, chuckling along with Harry. “’Lou, do you want me to come up and check your tyres? It’s dangerous to drive around not knowing they’re okay.’ ‘Lou, your mother says you get on quite well with your roommate. Are you sure he doesn’t have a criminal record?’”

Harry shakes with laughter. “He really said that?”

Louis nods, laughing too.

“He really did.”

“Lou, he sounds kind of wonderful.” Harry tilts his head against the pillow, smiling brightly.

“He kind of is.” Louis agrees with a grin but it melts away right at the corners. “I just wish Mark had never happened before that. I wish mum never felt like she had to protect me.”

"I'm sorry.”  
  
"It's okay." Louis smiles softly. "Something good came from it in the end."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah. Have you heard of CODAFS? It's not like…a big deal or anything but there have been a couple of ads on the telly."  
  
Harry nods excitedly.  
  
"Children of Divorce and Family Separation, right?"  
  
"Right." Louis smiles up at him approvingly. It gives Harry a warm fuzzy feeling inside his chest. "It's for kids whose families don't survive the split as well as mine did. There are more than you'd think… and most of them don't have closets to hide in when things get tough. Although--" He pauses, a delicate smile perched on his lips. "I don't make a habit out of telling kids to stay in the closet. At least not the LGBTQ ones."  
  
"I'm glad." Harry says with a chuckle. "You had me worried for a second."  
  
Louis playfully pushes at his chest, eyes shining bright in the dull grey of the room. They look like little blue planets, orbiting a new cosmos of his creation. Harry feels as if he’s stuck in Louis' orbit too but there’s no place he'd rather be.  
  
"So um…I founded it. CODAFS is my baby."  
  
Harry's smile slips right off his face.  
  
"You founded a national charity for kids in need?"  
  
His eyes must be blown wide or something because Louis takes one look at his expression and starts giggling delightedly.  
  
"Yes. But it's not that amazing, quit looking at me like I'm the Lord Saviour or something."  
  
His voice is sharp and defensive but the shy smile filling his eyes tells Harry all he needs to know.  
  
"I just don't understand." Harry shakes his head, trying to clear it. "Where did you get the money for it? You're not secretly rich, are you?"  
  
Louis rolls his eyes.  
  
"No, Harold. If I was, I wouldn't be stuck in a dorm room with you, now would I?"  
  
Harry lightly slaps his chest.  
  
"You love living with me."  
  
Louis laughs openly and leans a little bit closer. As if they weren't close enough already. His face is freshly shaven and while others might find it off putting, Harry’s a bit obsessed with the baby face that’s been uncovered underneath. It makes him feel like he’s getting to see a younger version of Louis, like he’s getting to go back to the time he wishes he would have met him, in order to be there for him when things got tough. Plus, it reveals more of his defined bone structure and that’s just a gift for everybody’s eyes, really.  
  
"Yeah, I s'pose I do."  
  
They’re easily close enough to kiss and Harry wants to so badly. If only to feel those cherry blossom lips, soft like petals, press gently against his own. He’d love to run his fingers through the dampened ends of Louis’ hair, soft and silky against his fingers. His hands would come away smelling of Louis’ shampoo and Harry could probably die a happy man having kissed someone so _pretty_ , a hand tangled in the back of his lovely hair. Harry knows he’d fist the bottom of that lilac jumper in his other hand, pulling it away to expose Louis’ delicious stomach.

The tension feels layered for a moment, as if maybe he’s not the only one feeling it. Louis' eyes hold his own, daring him to make a move and Harry pushes closer, a slave to the longing inside his chest. Anticipation swells inside him, watching Louis’ shaky inhale and the moment is right there before them both. They’re finally going to cross the chasm. Then Louis falls back, shuffling away and the moment is gone. Harry does his best to make peace with its loss.  
  
"So how’d you do it?” His voice is gruff. “How’d you create a charity?"  
  
Again Louis seems relieved to get back to the topic at hand. Quiet anger simmers in Harry’s veins.  
  
"I lobbied for it as hard as I could and fought tooth and nail to get it up and running. I wrote to MP's, community leaders, media outlets…anyone I thought could possibly help me get it going. It wasn't a matter of funds, I knew they were out there. It was a matter of convincing someone to give them to me."  
  
"Why wouldn't they?" Harry asks, disbelieving.  
  
In that moment Harry’s thinking more from the perspective of Louis’ adoring fan than someone with vested financial interests. If it was Harry's choice, of course Louis would have had his funds. He can have all of Harry’s money and his hand in marriage too.  
  
"Because I was a fifteen-year old kid with no experience in building a charity?"  
  
"Right." Harry bites his lip. "So what did you do?"  
  
"Well that's when mum got involved." He smiles then, the look on his face one of utter love and admiration. "She did for the campaign what I couldn't do myself. She made it feasible. People believed in her in a way they couldn't quite fully believe in me and the more she spoke at the meetings we went to, the more they would listen to what _I_ had to say. We had a number of meetings with James Cordon, you might have heard of him--"  
  
"James Cordon!" Harry squeals.

Louis continues on as if Harry hadn’t spoken at all.  
  
"And after that, we managed to make it a reality. James gave us a kickstart but we took it from there. Mum took on the business stuff; the logistics and the financials while I worked on figuring out what I wanted to achieve. I met with so many kids in broken families, kids who felt lost and alone. They were kids that didn't know where they belonged anymore, who felt powerless in their situation. In the beginning, we had planned for a helpline of sorts, something to get kids talking, you know. It was mum's idea and I ran with it but after speaking to all these kids, kids like me, kids who felt scared all the time and unsure of what to do about it, I realised they needed more than somebody to talk to. They needed somewhere to go. They needed their own closet."  
  
Harry hums, seeing it all in his mind's eye. He can imagine fifteen-year-old Louis, bad haircut and a daggy school uniform, running around London with blessedly innocent intentions, trying to help these kids who suffered the same pain he did.  
  
"So I came up with the idea of Safe Houses where kids can go when they're feeling overwhelmed or out of sorts inside their own home. I thought that with the right kinds of services, we can really help them take control of their circumstances, you know? Instead of watching them become victims of them."  
  
"Lou, that's wonderful." Harry implores, trying to find the right words for it. "I can't believe you were only fifteen. That’s just. You’re _so_. You're incredible."  
  
Louis blushes anew. His eyes lock on Harry's with considerable gratitude shining through.  
  
"Thank you. It wasn't easy, I suppose. Mum had to teach me a lot and we still needed a lot more funds than James was able to give us. Thankfully, with a ton of local communities on our side, we were able to create enough people power to really change things for good. We got the government on side and once we had them, we had the money. Then it was just a matter of putting it to good use. Mum took charge of organising the most important services. She hired everyone from counsellors to social workers to experts in family separation. And I worked on creating a space that these kids would want to be in. I designed a game room and a mock cinema. We even got the girls involved. Lottie was particularly enthusiastic about this stylist, Lou Teasdale. We hired her for this special room called The Beauty Parlour."  
  
"It sounds amazing." Harry gushes. "I can't believe you're the head of this huge charity and you didn’t even mention it to me once."  
  
"Oh hush. It's not as if I'm some famous CEO."  
  
Harry narrows his eyes at him.  
  
"But you are the CEO, aren't you?"  
  
"Well yes..." Harry snorts. "But it's more of a figure head position than anything. I don't take care of anything important. I do visit the safe houses sometimes, I’ll admit that."

Louis blushes furiously again. Harry’s beginning to think there’s no better colour on him than rosy pink.  
  
"To see the kids?" Harry asks, heart melting inside his chest.  
  
"Yeah. They're not like scheduled visits or anything. I just go whenever I feel like it. To be honest it’s usually when I'm having a bad day. There's something so wonderful about seeing all those lonely kids catching up with each other and making friends. They’ve always got lovely dopey smiles on their faces and they just look so at home. I think...I think it's good for me to see I'm capable of that."  
  
"Capable of what?" Harry enquires.  
  
"Capable of making someone feel _safe_ and happy. I feel more capable of making a difference when I'm there than anywhere else. The kids, they all know my name and like…how many sisters I have and everything. They know that Jay is my mum and that my parents are separated too. I get the best of both worlds. I fit in with them, I get to feel like I’m one of them but I also get to feel like I survived it. I got through it. I can share with them what it's like to get to the other side and be okay."  
  
Harry's never heard him speak with such passion before. He’s so humbled about it all and it’s wildly attractive.  
  
"Lou, you should be _so_ proud of yourself. Honestly. You're not the lord saviour, no but you might just be Superman Junior."  
  
Louis’ look is quizzical.  
  
"Superman junior?"  
  
He smirks.  
  
"Well you are pretty small Boo.” He laughs and tugs on Louis’ sweater paws.  
  
Louis growls and pins him to the bed by his shoulders.  
  
"I will end you Harry Edward Styles."  
  
He knows he’s done for when he looks up at Louis with overwhelming affection, much too dazed to defend himself.  He didn't realise it to begin with but getting to know Louis isn't going to be as easy as he thought. Not just because Louis doesn’t like to share but also because the more Harry learns about him, the more he wants him and the more he wants Louis, the harder it is to hold him in his arms every night, knowing he'll have to let go in the morning.

Despite his best efforts to the contrary, Harry’s falling in love. He can't help but think he might be better off _not_ knowing these things about Louis. He might be better off not knowing his generous spirit or brilliant mind. He'd be better off not knowing the cute crinkly eyed way he smiles whenever he talks about his sisters or butts his head against Moo’s. He'd definitely be better off not knowing that even without the trauma he's suffered, Louis' clearly been through a lot over the years...  
  
"So...have you ever lost anyone?"  
  
Two months into their friendship and Harry is unsurprisingly still terrible at digging for information.  
  
"Why would you ask that?" Louis cuts him to the quick. "Out of nowhere. Why?"  
  
Harry gulps. Maybe trying to coax the story out of Louis isn't the best idea.  
  
"I, just."  
  
"You just?" Louis throws his phone face down on the bed and crosses his arms at Harry.

He looks a bit tired and under the weather this week with three-day-old stubble covering his cheeks and deep shadows beneath his eyes.  
  
"Did you hear...something?" He asks, his harsh tone trailing off into quiet uncertainty. "Something about me?"  
  
He’s biting clean through his lip and Harry wants to kick himself for scaring this wonderfully vulnerable boy. Clearly whatever happened to him in the past is in the vault. Maybe it isn't in Harry's power to change that but by god he can chase the look of terror right off Louis' delicate features.  
  
"What? No." Harry shakes his head as definitively as possible. "I was just thinking about my great grandma...who died three years ago today."  
  
Harry doesn’t know who his great grandma is. His dad's grandma passed away before he was born and his mum's grandma could be very much alive for all he knows. It doesn’t feel particularly right to lie about someone's death but it feels even less so to have Louis convinced Harry’s figured his past out.  
  
"Oh. Christ." Louis flushes bright pink and reaches over to squeeze Harry's forearm gently. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to jump down your throat or anything. I guess I’m just a bit of a nutcase sometimes."  
  
He smiles as he says it but then looks down towards his lap, a hint of shame clouding his features.  
  
"You're no more nutty than I am."  
  
Louis chuckles and gently pushes his fingers into Harry's side.  
  
"That’s not very comforting. You're practically an alien."  
  
Harry gasps, a grin tweaking the corners of his lips.  
  
"How very dare you, Lewis."  
  
Louis' breathless giggle tears strips of worry off Harry's chest.  
  
"I'm sorry but the way you eat is just not _normal_ Harold. And don't even get me started on the way you dance.” He says, waving his arms around his head in a poor approximation of Harry’s moves. “You look like a wet noodle.”

Harry laughs and does an exaggerated shimmy just to hear that precious giggle on repeat. It quietens after a moment as Louis lays back against his pillows, Harry silently following suit.  
  
"You want to know who I've lost then? Is that it?"  
  
Harry gives the most honest answer he's given thus far.  
  
"I just want to know everything you’re comfortable telling me. Nothing more, Lou."  
  
Louis sighs like Harry saying that is particularly distressing to him.  
  
"You are too much kindness in one person." He says, eyes slowly sliding over to Harry's. "It makes me worry about you, you know."  
  
"I worry about you too," Harry admits. "You're too soft."  
  
"I am not soft," Louis bites back weakly. "I'm strong!"  
  
"That's not what I'm saying," Harry says with a chuckle. "You're not weak Lou, of course not. You’re brave and so strong. You're capable of anything you set your mind to."  
  
Louis' open mouthed surprise is almost as pretty as the quietly contented smile he wears every single time Harry curls an arm around him in public. Almost, but not quiet.  
  
"You really think that about me? It's only been two months, Harold. You can't…know that kind of stuff about me."  
  
"I do though," Harry exhales, feeling dizzy with it. "I see you every morning and every night. We eat all of our meals together, we study together, we go out on the weekends together. We even have the same friends. You're not a stranger to me anymore."  
  
Louis' voice is a rough whisper when he answers, like anything else would be too much.  
  
"You're not a stranger to me either."  
  
His words are simple and blunt, yet the way he looks at Harry afterwards is nothing short of breathtaking. It’s a real moment between them, only broken by the sound of Louis’ unusually quiet voice.  
  
"I am soft sometimes." He says, face open and strangely unencumbered. "I suppose that's why I've had my heart broken so many times."  
  
Harry sucks in a shocked breath, heart splintering inside his chest. How could someone so deserving of good have had his heart broken so badly? And numerous times, really? Harry can’t quite believe it.  
  
"So you've lost boyfriends?"  
  
Louis nods but there's something there behind his eyes. It tells Harry that he’s thinking of whatever’s locked away inside that vaulted heart of his. Boyfriends aren’t all he's lost, Harry’s sure of it.  
  
"A few, yeah. My first one was the captain of the football team. You can imagine how that turned out." Louis' expression is equal parts wry and bitter. "He wanted me to have sex with him and when I said I wasn't ready, he outed me to the entire school. I was fifteen. I’d never even used the word _gay_ to describe myself let alone had someone else use it against me like a weapon. I knew I liked boys, obviously but I didn’t know what that meant, not really. I was lucky I had the most supportive friends. They skipped class with me that afternoon and and took me to go get ice cream. Stan even paid for me to get extra toppings.”  
  
"Lou," Harry gasps. "That’s awful."  
  
"Yeah," Louis laughs, eyes tinged with long healed pain. "But I had people to support me, I wasn’t alone and in my eyes, it’s not nearly as bad as what the next guy did to me. I guess I kind of saw it coming with the first one because I knew he couldn’t come to terms with himself. He wanted to use me as some kind of release and go on pretending he was the same person he’d always been. The second one…now the second one, I thought was different.”

Harry quirks an eyebrow and Louis sighs.

“When I was sixteen, I dated this boy from my chemistry class, Patrick. I honestly thought I could fall in love with him. He was sweet and so romantic. He was open about everything too, including his sexuality. I never had to hide."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"He asked me to junior prom but on the night of, confessed to me that he'd cheated on me with some girl he’d known all his life. I didn't even know he was bi. Apparently neither did he."  
  
"That absolute asshole," Harry growls, scrunching the covers in his fists. "Did he at least wait until after prom to tell you?"  
  
"Nope," Louis grimaces. "He showed up at my house in a cheap smelly tux and confessed the whole thing right there on my doorstep. The worst part was he thought I'd still go with him. I stayed home and cried my eyes out in mum’s arms. I should have been at my prom dancing with a boy who actually wanted to be with me. Instead I spent the whole night sitting at home feeling miserable. It was crap. I’d saved up all my money to buy the kind of suit I thought he'd like and done my hair all nice and everything. I actually felt beautiful standing there on that doorstep. That was before he told me what he’d done.”  
  
Louis looks a bit heartbroken as he stares up at the ceiling with misty eyes.  
  
"I bet you looked gorgeous." Harry’s adamant. “If we were friends back then, I would have come over to your house in my very expensive, _very_ nice smelling tux. I would have taken you out into the street where all the passers-by would have seen you. I’d want everyone to see how lucky I was to have a boy as beautiful as you on my arm. Then and only then would I have taken you in my arms and danced with you under the stars until you forgot all about that swine of a boyfriend you dated. He would have rued the day he dared to mistreat you.”  
  
Louis lifts his head off the pillow, wonder painting his expression bright.  
  
"You'd really have done that for me?"  
  
"Of course I would." Harry tells him. "That's what friends do."  
  
It's not, Harry realises and perhaps Louis does too. Neither of them say anything to challenge it.  
  
"I wish I could have had a b--friend like you." Louis stutters.  
  
Harry's smile stretches his dimpled cheeks wide.  
  
"Me too Lou."  
  
"There was one more." Louis murmurs, playing with the hem of Harry’s lilac jumper. "One more heartbreak."  
  
Harry frowns.  
  
"Didn't you ever have a boyfriend who treated you right?"  
  
"Not really, no."

"You still believe in it though, don't you?" Harry wonders aloud.

"Believe in what?"

"Love." Harry's voice is hushed. "You still believe it's a real thing?"  
  
"Of course I do. I just don't know if it’s on the cards for me."  
  
"I think it is." Harry looks over at him. "I think there's somebody out there who's going to absolutely adore you."

 _The way I do now._  
  
"I hope so." Louis bites at his lip. "I just don’t know anymore. It doesn't help that the last boy who broke my heart was the most well intentioned of them all. He didn’t do anything particularly brutal I guess. He just gave up on me."  
  
"He gave up on you?" Harry's voice is laced with quiet venom. Venom for this boy he’s never met.  
  
How could anyone willingly give up on a boy like _Louis_?  
  
"Yeah. It was when I was going through…a rough time." Louis stumbles, expression troubled. "He didn't like how it changed me. Said he couldn’t be with someone who didn’t seem human to him anymore."  
  
"Fuck him." Harry cusses and reached over the space between them to grab Louis' hand. "If he couldn't be there for you then…if he couldn't be patient with you when you needed it the most, he’s the one who’s not human. He's the problem Lou. Tell me you didn't let it make you feel bad."  
  
"I did feel like a burden sometimes." Louis admits, teary eyed. Harry squeezes his fingers tight, trying to share his strength. "Because I was sort of...sick." He says, biting at the corner of his lip.  
  
It’s the closest he’s come to telling Harry the truth and Harry can see from the look on his face how much it costs him. His whole body is shivering violently.  
  
"We all need to be taken care of sometimes, Lou.” He squeezes Louis’ shoulder. “It's nothing to be ashamed of."  
  
"But I was," Louis' raspy tone cuts through the silence. "I was _so_ ashamed. Especially when he told me that what I'd been through affected him too. I felt sick with it, like I was choking on my own pain."  
  
"Jesus," Harry shakes his head. "You shouldn't have ever had to feel that way. You _are_ human Louis. It's normal to feel broken every once in a while. It doesn't mean you deserve to be treated like a burden or abandoned by the person who’s supposed to love you the most.”  
  
"I know," Louis mutters, eyelashes wet and tittering from side to side. "But I still sometimes think I'm too much for people to bear. What if I’m…” He seems to struggle to find the right words. “What if no one can carry it all? What if no one _wants_ to?"

 _You're not too much for me baby._ Harry promises silently. _I’ll carry you wherever you choose to go next._

"They will, I promise you." Harry rubs his thumb over the curve of Louis’ wrist. “The ones who are worthy of you will.”  
  
Louis wears a wearied smile.  
  
"I don't know what I did to deserve you as my roommate." He says "Or my friend."  
  
Harry doesn’t answer. Instead he gets up and without breaking their handhold, lays down beside Louis. The other boy's arms silently find their way around his middle with Harry taking up a similar position as well, a hand curved around the back of Louis’ head. They lay that way for a while, Louis’ minty cool breaths landing against Harry’s collarbones, his small fingers pressing into his waist. Eventually, they both fall asleep.

When Harry wakes a couple of hours later, Louis is half on top of him and a half smile has formed on his sleeping face. Harry is drowsy enough to go back to sleep but he can't bring himself to close his eyes. Not with Louis looking so peaceful and so heart achingly lovely. Finally, Harry feels like he knows exactly what Aerosmith is singing about in I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing.  
_  
I don't want to close my eyes. I don't want to fall asleep cause I'd miss you babe and I don't want to miss a thing._

Harry doesn’t want to miss even one twitch of Louis’ cute button nose.  
  
*-*-*  
  
"So. I have a Louis sized problem," Harry announces. "And I need you boys to help me."  
  
The boys are gathered in Harry and Louis' dorm room, spread across the boys’ beds with an assortment of snacks. Louis had mentioned the night before he’d be off visiting his sisters in London. Harry teased him mercilessly, letting him know how happy he was that Louis would be reunited with them after one long week apart. Louis argued that it had to be more than a week since they'd come up or Louis had gone down to see them. Unfortunately for Louis, Harry's memory was crystal clear.  
  
"I just miss them sometimes. Is that so shameful?" Louis had said, expression unexpectedly wounded. "It has been three months."  
  
"You're right." Harry agreed, wanting desperately to erase the look of uncertainty on Louis’ pixie-like face. "There's nothing wrong with missing your family Lou, I'm just teasing. I actually think it's cute."  
  
Louis had shied away from his gaze and gone back to texting Lottie random emojis. It was something he frequently did to Harry too, now that they'd exchanged numbers. It didn't matter if they were in the same room or even sharing a bed for that matter, Louis still thought it was endlessly amusing to send Harry long strings of the frog emoji, followed by texts of “ _it you_ ”. Every now and then Harry liked to respond with a string of peach emojis and the message “ _you’re a real peach Lou_.” It was worth it to see Louis blush and stammer his way through a subject change.  
  
Point being, Louis was gone for the day and Harry had invited the boys over for a very specific reason. The reason being, he needed help with Louis.

"What did he do?" Liam asks, head pillowed in Zayn's lap. "Whatever it is, I'm sure you can forgive him."  
  
Harry snorts.  
  
"Why do you assume _he_ did something?"  
  
"Well..." Liam says awkwardly. "He's just a bit oblivious is all."  
  
"Oblivious about what?"  
  
Niall cuts in then, smirking.  
  
"Oblivious about the fact that you adore him, obviously Harold."  
  
"I do not adore him." Harry denies, cheeks suspiciously hot. "And don’t call me that. Only Louis calls me Harold."  
  
"Case and point." Niall winks. "You think he's the sweetest little thing and he has no idea."  
  
"Oh shut up Niall. I'm trying to talk to you guys about something serious. Can we press pause on this commentary of mine and Louis' relationship?"  
  
"Pause," Niall muses, tapping his chin. "Does that mean we'll come back to it later?"  
  
Harry huffs angrily. Thankfully, Liam seems to pick up on his complete exasperation and thwacks Niall over the head with one of the many photography magazines lying around.  
  
"Shh. Harry's trying to tell us something."  
  
Niall pouts but shuts up all the same.  
  
"So here's the thing. Something happened to Louis in his past. Something terrible. I don't know what it is, he won't tell me but it's really affecting him. I think maybe he needs some serious help."  
  
"Hang on," Zayn's expression is suspicious, bordering on judgemental. "How do you even know that there's something going on with him if you don't know what it is?"  
  
Harry bites down on his bottom lip, eyes flicking back and forth between the three boys he's starting to depend on like brothers.  He knows them better now. There's an added layer of comfort, a special kind of affection that wasn't there before. Despite all their quirks (and intensely annoying habits), they've become somewhat like a makeshift family. It really helps, given that they’re all so prone to homesickness.  
  
"Because," he sighs, "he has nightmares about it."  
  
"Right," Zayn nods, unconvinced. "But nightmares are a natural release for unconscious fears harboured by the spirit? It doesn't necessarily mean he's traumatised."  
  
Liam nods along, fingers skating over Zayn's thigh. Harry and Louis are still agreed upon the fact that those two are an odd pairing. Yet funnily enough, seeing the way they slot together in spite of their differences has been somewhat moving. It gives Harry hope.

"These aren't regular nightmares Zayn. They're more than just bad dreams. It's like he's reliving something. He calls out things that are way too specific to be made up and it’s always the same thing. I think the dream is always the same."  
  
"This happens every night?" Niall looks shocked and sobered by the truth.  
  
Harry nods, swallowing the bubble of sadness that’s begun to build in his throat. Last night had been particularly bad. Louis wasn't as receptive to his touch and had been distressed past the point of comfort as he cried. Harry had to physically pick him up and hold him in his arms to get him to stop.

When he woke this morning, Louis’ voice was croaky and he looked more vulnerable than Harry’s ever seen him. He was worryingly quiet as he got ready to go out, rubbing his reddened eyes and yawning enough times to make Harry's heart constrict in his chest. He ended up in loose joggers and another of Harry’s oversized pastel jumpers. That’s opposed to the skinny jeans and dark coat he'd laid out the night before.  
  
"He cries, guys. And sometimes...sometimes he _screams._ " Harry blinks back tears. It’s all hitting him now, now that he's finally talking about it with someone. "It's awful to listen to. I just can't stand seeing him like that."  
  
"Well what does he say about it?" Liam asks. "How does he explain the nightmares?"  
  
"He doesn't." Harry gulps. "Because he doesn't know he has them."  
  
"What?!"  
  
Suddenly there are three pairs of horrified eyes glued to his face.  
  
"Well..." Harry dawdles, playing with the strings on his hoodie. "The first time it happened was our first night together. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t even know his name! I tried to ignore it but he was so loud, I couldn't sleep and our neighbours kept banging on the walls. I had to do something. I tried to wake him but he wouldn't. Then I thought...maybe it would be worse to wake him. I didn't want to scare him."  
  
"So you did what?" Zayn says, tone surprisingly icy.  
  
"I held him." Harry says, without a tinge of regret. Guilt maybe, but not regret. "It was the only thing I could do to get him to stop making so much noise. As soon as I touched him, he calmed right down. I sat with him for a little bit until he stopped crying and then I tried to get back into my own bed."  
  
"You tried?" Liam says with a quizzical look.  
  
"He wouldn't let me," Harry exhales, chuckling breathily. "He just kept making these awful desperate noises. It was like he was begging me to stay. So I did. I held him all night, then I got back into my own bed before he could wake up."  
  
"Harry, that's..." Niall trails off, eyes wide.  
  
"Amazing," Liam finishes. At the same time Zayn says, "wrong."  
  
"What?" Liam’s head twists in Zayn’s direction. "How could you say that to him? What Harry did was kind and selfless. He took away Louis’ pain."  
  
"He took Louis into his arms and held him without his permission." Zayn seethes. "How is that _kind_? Louis was in the midst of dealing with a spiritual burden and Harry interrupted that. He took advantage of it."  
  
"Excuse me," Harry says through gritted teeth. "I'm right here. Stop talking about me as if I'm not."  
  
"That's what you did with Louis, isn't it?" Zayn fires back. "Just completely ignored his right to consent."  
  
"Woah," Niall holds out his hands. "Hold it right there Zayn. You're acting as if Harry _assaulted_ him or something. It wasn't like that. He was helping him, Z. He comforted him."

The dark-haired boy scoffs, scowling bitterly.  
  
"You're really using that excuse, Ni? "He wanted it”, is that what you’re trying to tell me?”  
  
"What is this really about Zayn?" Harry raises his voice. "Because it's sure as hell not about me and Louis."  
  
"Babe," Liam's voice is soft and careful. He cups Zayn's shoulder and slowly turns him into his chest. "Is this about..."  
  
Zayn doesn't say anything but sighs defeatedly when Liam cups the back of his neck, pressing his lips to the other boys’ cheek.  
  
"Can I tell them?" He asks gently.  
  
Zayn nods, silently clinging to his boyfriend’s shoulders. Liam takes a deep breath.  
  
"When Zayn was sixteen, the boy he was seeing at the time...took advantage of him."  
  
“He didn’t just ‘take advantage’, okay? It was rape. He raped me" Zayn interrupts, pulling his reddened face from Liam's chest. "Don't skirt around it, Li."  
  
"I'm sorry," Liam bows his head, a deep frown etched into his features. "I just didn't want to upset you."  
  
Zayn laughs but it’s dry, bitter. He grabs onto Liam's hands, curling his fingers around them. Harry has only to look at the white knuckles on Zayn's hand to see just how tightly he's holding on.  
  
"That doesn't upset me. What upsets me is the thought of that ever happening to someone else. _Especially_ Louis. He has a more vulnerable spirit than any of you realise.”  
  
"What are you saying?" Harry’s voice breaks. He feels sick to the stomach. "That I'm some kind of _rapist_?  Zayn, I'm so sorry for what happened to you. I mean that. Sincerely. But it has nothing to do with mine and Louis' situation. I didn't try to take anything from him. I'm not doing this for my own benefit and if...if there was some way I could fix this for him, you know I would.”  
  
"So you're still doing it? Every night?" Niall asks. "How do you sleep?"  
  
"Better than I ever have before." Harry beams, then cocks his head. "...mostly. Sometimes Louis flares up in the middle of the night and I have to calm him back down again. But mostly? Mostly it’s just nice. It doesn't feel wrong. We cuddle when he's awake, we cuddle when he’s asleep. What’s wrong with that?”  
  
"Look, I get it." Zayn huffs. It looks like it takes a lot of effort for him to admit that much. "You guys are friends now. It probably feels natural to comfort him any way you can. But Harry, you didn't know him when this started and he didn't know you. You had no right to touch him at all."  
  
"If you'd heard him..." Harry closes his eyes, hearing a cacophony of tormented cries fill his ears. "If you heard him the way I did, the way I _do._..you wouldn't be able to resist either Zayn. It's not... _for_ me. I just can't let him cry like that. He screams Zayn, like he's in _pain_. Could you let Liam suffer like that? Would you let him go through that if you knew had the power to stop it?"  
  
Liam raises his eyebrows at his boyfriend, clearly interested in his answer.  
  
"No, of course not." Zayn answers swiftly. "But that's different."  
  
"How?"  
  
"I'm in love with him." Zayn says meaningfully. "I'd do anything for someone I love. For someone who loves me in return. But Louis was a stranger to you. You didn’t even know him.”  
  
"I know him now.’  
  
"And you love him now, don’t you?" Niall says with a cheeky little grin. "Like Zayn loves Liam?"  
  
Harry blushes and shoos him away.  
  
"Shh Niall."  
  
"Have you tried waking him?" Liam says. "I know you don’t want to scare him but what if it could stop the nightmare in its tracks?"  
  
"I have," Harry says with quiet conviction. "And it only made things worse."  
  
"Christ," Liam shakes his head. "Poor Lou."  
  
Niall nods sympathetically but Zayn still looks agitated.  
  
"What if you just told him the truth? Have you ever thought about that? Surely he has _some_ knowledge of the nightmares--"  
  
"He doesn't," Harry cuts him off angrily. "I've been down that road. It's like...whatever he's been through, he thinks it's over now."  
  
"What if you just broached the subject? Surely he would be grateful. If you tell him the truth, he can get some professional help and then your problem’s solved. Plus, your spirit would be cleansed."  
  
"I'm not exactly worried about my dirty spirit Zayn," Harry snarks. "I'm worried about Louis. And I've tried broaching the subject before. Don't think I haven't tested the waters."  
  
"And?"  
  
" _And_ he was an anxious wreck. He was horrified when he thought I'd seen something I shouldn't. I couldn't do that to him Zayn. I couldn't tell him I saw him cry before I even knew his name. It’d destroy him."  
  
"But Harry..." Zayn's voice is softer now and slightly less harsh. "Don't you think you could be doing him harm by not being honest with him? If he really needs help like you said, how can you possibly keep doing this? He needs to know what's going on."  
  
"What do you think I came to you guys for?" Harry rubs his forehead. "I'm completely lost as to how to tell him. I don't want him to feel betrayed. What if you're right? What if he hates me for what I did?"  
  
Harry's voice is on the edge of hysteria when Zayn leans across and squeezes his hand tightly.  
  
"I apologise Harry, you were right. I’m sorry if I made you doubt yourself. Honestly, you have the kindest spirit I've ever known.”

"Really?" Harry's voice shakes.  
  
"Really." Zayn smiles. "Louis is lucky to have someone like you watching out for him. He's not had that before."  
  
"He told you?" Harry’s voice is unnaturally high. "About his exes?"  
  
The other boy nods, smiling sadly. There’s the tiniest sting of jealousy when Harry thinks of closed off Louis sharing his secrets with Zayn, of all people.  
  
"He's been through a lot." Zayn muses. "It explains why he's in so much denial when it comes to you."  
  
"Denial?" Harry quirks an eyebrow. "Really?"  
  
"He’s in denial, you’re not." Zayn's smile is wry. "He knows he has feelings for you and can't admit it to himself. You know you have feelings for him and can’t admit it to us."  
  
It's true. Harry's 99% sure he's falling in love with Louis. He's just not ready to announce that to the boys. They're Louis' family too, after all.  
  
"You really think he has feelings for me?"  
  
Niall chuckles and jabs an elbow into Harry's side.  
  
"Listen to you. It's like we're in high school. Yer asking the head cheerleader's BFF if the head cheerleader likes you."  
  
"He's not wrong," Zayn laughs. "But for your information, he does. Like you, I mean."  
  
Harry's eyes instantly fill with a kind of bright hope he can't possibly deny. He says nothing. The trick is to neither deny nor confirm.  
  
"You guys still haven't given me any tips for actually talking to Louis. When should I do it? What should I say? What if he loses it at me? Should I buy him some apology flowers?"  
  
"Okay hold up a second." Niall's teeth are showing which is always a bad sign. "Are you trying to tell me you want help with your first date?"  
  
"What? No." Harry shakes his head. "That is _not_ what I said. That is not even remotely close to what I said."  
  
"Well too bad," Niall says. "Because this is now dating 101. Let's start with asking him on the date, shall we?"  
  
Harry groans but giver himself over to Niall's craziness anyway. The quicker he submits, the sooner this will be over. Or at least that’s how he hopes it works.

*-*-*

Louis doesn't make any noise during the night. That should probably be enough to tip Harry off that something’s wrong. Foolishly, he hopes it just means Louis' finally resolved whatever conflict keeps reoccurring behind his closed eyelids. No such luck. When Louis wakes it's with a hacking chesty cough and watery red rimmed eyes.  
  
"Harry," he croaks out, then sneezes with his whole body.  
  
Harry drops his packed bag on the bed he’s already made and scrambles over to Louis' side.  
  
"Lou? You okay?"  
  
"No," Louis' eyes flutter shut. "I feel like death."  
  
Harry takes in his unusually pale skin and the slight sheen of sweat across his brow.  
  
"You look like it too.”  
  
Louis whacks him across the shoulder. The attempt is so weak, it just makes Harry worry more.  
  
"Are you sick?"  
  
"No," Louis sniffs, breathing through his mouth. "I don't get sick. I'm just…under the weather."  
  
"You mean sick," Harry says with an exasperated roll of his eyes.  
  
"I'm fine. I just need to sleep for a bit longer." Louis coughs, curling his fingers into the blanket.

It's adorable how stubborn he is, if not a little painful. Harry thinks he'd have to sleep for a week just to sleep this off.

"Okay..." Harry gets up from his spot, worry coursing through his veins. "You sure you're going to be right on your own? I can have the boys come check on you."  
  
"I’m going to be on my own?" Louis' brow line deepens. His eyes flicker to Harry's packed bag. "Are you going somewhere?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry winces. "I'm going to my mum's? It's been about three weeks since I last went. She's starting to get antsy."  
  
"She is or you are?" Louis says, with a poor attempt at a smirk.  
  
"Both," Harry laughs, only blushing a little.  
  
He knows Louis is just as much of a mumma's boy as he is.  
  
"Well then," Louis' face drops. His chest inflates fully as he tries to breathe through his stuffy nose. "You should probably get going."  
  
"Right," Harry says and kneels right back down by his side. "But first. Promise me you won't be stupid and stubborn. Promise me you'll tell the boys if you need something."  
  
Louis rolls his eyes. The effect is ruined by the huge cough that suddenly wracks his chest. Harry can’t believe such a little person could make such a big noise. Cupping Louis’ neck, he traces a soothing path over the curve of his cheek. The gesture is way too tender for roommates of five months.  
  
"You're going to..." He coughs. "You're going to make them check on me constantly anyway."  
  
"True." Harry smiles but knows it doesn't reach his eyes.  
  
"What are you waiting for? _Shoo._ Or as Niall would say, Off with ye." Louis pushes him away, eyes guarded. "Have a good time. Tell Mumma Anne hi from me."  
  
"I will.” He smiles brilliantly, knowing just how well Louis would get along with his mum. "Now get some rest Sniffles."  
  
"Sniffles?" Louis huffs, trying to hide his twitching nose. "Who you calling sniffles?"  
  
"Not you," Harry smiles at him fondly.  
  
"Good." Louis rasps and lays his head back against the pillow. "You can go now."  
  
He closes his eyes, face tensely weakly. He looks so small and pale, so unlike his usually vibrant self. Without much thinking, Harry leans down and presses a lingering kiss to the crown of Louis' head. Louis' skin feels way too warm against his mouth, troubling him greatly but then Louis’ eyes snap open, pinning him in place.

"Did you just kiss me?" He blurts out.  
  
"Ah…yes. On the head."  
  
Harry is about as a subtle as a fire alarm.  
  
"R..right." Louis stammers, colouring up. "Goodbye Harold."  
  
He closes his eyes then and it takes all the will power Harry has to walk out of the room and not look back. Once outside, he immediately shoots off a group text asking the boys to check on Louis in an hour. It settles his anxiety a bit and allows him to start the trek from their dorm room down to the cark park. He walks quickly to his car and just as swiftly stores his stuff in the back of the jeep. He jumps in the front seat and goes to turn the keys in the ignition. Suddenly it clicks. He forgot his camera. He curses, slamming the door behind him, then starts the trek back up to the dorms.  
  
When he rounds the corner of their hallway, his phone dings with a text. It’s from Louis.  
  
_Have fun today Hazza. You deserve it x_  
  
Harry's face crinkles with a smile and he quickens his pace down the hall to their room. When he reaches number 12, he shoves his key in the door and wrenches it open with a big dopey grin.  
  
"Hey sniffles, I forgot my camera!"  
  
Harry's eyes lock on Louis straight away. Cloaked in one of Harry’s jumpers, there’s thick teardrops pacing their way down his face. Louis ducks his head beneath the covers but it's too late. Harry’s seen him. He’s seen Louis' heaving chest and trembling fingers. He’s seen the tears easing their way down his blotchy pink cheeks, trailing glossy little lines behind them. Even now, he can hear the tell-tale sound of Louis' sniffling, so much worse than before.  
  
"Lou, what happened?" Harry asks, crossing the room in two strides.  
  
He seeks out Louis' hands beneath the covers, kneading them comfortingly.  
  
"Talk to me," he pleads.  
  
"I'm fine," Louis sighs, but there's a hitch in his breath, followed by a quiet hiccup. "You can take the camera and go."  
  
"Are you...mad at me?"  
  
"Do I sound like I'm mad at you?" Louis huffs.  
  
"Honestly?" Harry squeezes his hands. "Yes."  
  
"Well I'm not.” Louis tosses his head.  
  
It looks ridiculous with his head all covered up like that.  
  
"Why won't you look at me then?  
  
"Because.”  
  
"Because why?"  
  
"Because..." Louis breathes out heavily. "Because I have a snotty nose and it’s disgusting."  
  
It's a poor lie.  
  
"I don't care Lou. I just want to know you're okay."  
  
"I'm okay." Louis says quickly. "Can you go now?"  
  
Harry frowns and pulls one of his hands from Louis’. He curves it around the visible arch of Louis’ neck instead. Letting his thumb trail up Louis' throat, he quietly thrills to the feel of Louis' pulse beneath his finger.  
  
"Look, if you really think you need to hide from me, I'm not going to fight you on it. I do have to get going. But I really wish you'd trust me not to judge you, just this once. I'm your friend Lou, I'm not going to abandon you over a few tears."  
  
It seems to have done the trick. Louis makes a harrumph sound in the back of his throat and slowly pulls the duvet down to his chin. Harry's hand automatically glides up to Louis’ face, fitting itself around his tear streaked cheek. His thumb skates across Louis' ice-cold skin, wiping away the solitary tear that's currently making its way down his face.  
  
"Thank you." Harry says gravely. "For trusting me like this."  
  
Louis swallows and reaches up to grab the hand that's on his face. He interlocks their fingers. Leaving Harry’s hand there, he gazes at him quietly. Intensely.  
  
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Harry murmurs, reluctant to ruin the moment.  
  
"Nothing happened." Louis says sullenly. "I just...don't get sick that often."  
  
"Okay..."  
  
Louis sighs, annoyed.  
  
"So I don't like being sick. Big deal. What person does?"  
  
"That's all it is?" Harry's instantly sceptical. "You're just upset that you’re sick?"  
  
"Yes." Louis' eyes are downcast, his wet eyelashes clumped together. He bites down at the corner of his mouth, eyebrows tenting. "But also." He swallows. "I've never been on my own before. When I've been sick, I mean. I've always had someone there to like, look after me or whatever. It’s stupid, honestly."  
  
He tries to play it off as something unimportant but Harry can see the note of blatant distress in his eyes. There's urgent need too. It's agonising for Harry, to see Louis want so much and not be able to verbalise it out of fear.  
  
"You don't know what to do when you're sick, do you?"  
  
Harry knows it's more than that, knows it's more about _his_ knowledge of someone else's comforting presence than _their_ knowledge of how to make him feel better.  But it's the look in Louis' cerulean blue eyes convinces Harry to just let it be. If Louis doesn't want to admit to needing someone, Harry isn't going to force him. He isn't going to be another negative pressure in Louis' life.  
  
The other boy shakes his head, obviously feeling small.  
  
"I don't even know how to check my own temperature."  
  
Harry's heart contracts at the look of embarrassment on Louis' face, so vulnerable and unsure.  
  
"It’s okay babe." Harry finds himself saying. "I can teach you, yeah? I can look after you."  
  
"No, Harry." Louis screws his eyes shut tight, pushing his fists against them. "This is why I didn't want you to see me. I knew you wouldn't be able to help yourself if you did. It’s not like I’m totally incapable. It’s just that when you closed the door and left, I kind of…missed you I guess."  
  
He keeps his hands screwed into fists on his face but Harry can see them trembling. Harry gently pulls his hands away from his face and cups his cheeks again.  
  
"As if I could possibly leave you now."  
  
It's as honest as Harry's been since he met Louis. It's the closest he's gotten to confessing the complete and utter devotion he feels. Louis' bleary eyes open slowly, oceanic blue staring Harry dead in the face. His cheeks are still pink, his chest still heaving albeit a bit less vigorously than before. There's the subtle light of hope in his expression, lips fighting off the lazy curl of a smile. In this moment Harry knows he’s never seen anyone look so gorgeous and so heartbreaking all at the same time.

 _Sweet Creature_.

It's the name of the song Harry would write for him in another life.

"Harry, I'm not letting you stay here with me. You need to go see your mum."

"You’re right," Harry agrees, “I need to go.”

“Right.” Louis’ expression is half shock, half disappointment. “I’m glad you agree.”

"I'll go…” he pauses, “…but only if you go with me."

"What?" Louis squawks, voice losing stamina halfway through.

He coughs deeply, producing a little bit of spittle which collects on the cracks of his lips. Harry wipes it away with his thumb, not questioning it in the slightest. Louis' face twists slightly, going pink with embarrassment but there's a hint of pleasure too, like he's grateful for their newfound intimacy.  
  
"I can't go to your mum's with you." He protests, eyes wide. "I don't even know her."  
  
"Exactly." Harry beams. "This is your chance to get to know her. I know she'd love to meet you…I talk about you all the time."  
  
He probably shouldn't have said that last past but then Louis’ face melts like butter and Harry knows he couldn’t take it back if he tried.  
  
"What do you say..." Louis coughs to clear his throat. "What do you say about me exactly?"  
  
There's an endearing sense of shyness to it.  
  
"That you're a brat and I'm sick of having to wrangle you all the time." Harry says with a wink.  
  
"That's just plain rude."  
  
"Sorry." He giggles.  
  
The truth is his mum knows more about the situation with Louis than anyone. It was about two months back when he first called her to talk about it and after that, there were no holds barred. She knows everything there is to know about the situation, including the whole nightmare ordeal. It's part of the reason he wants to go home so badly.  He needs someone to give him the courage to tell Louis the truth. Surely, there's no better person than his mum.  
  
Louis seems to be considering Harry's proposition.  
  
"What about the fact that I'm sickly?" He scrunches his nose. "Surely she won't want a snotty nosed, sick person in her midst?"  
  
"Don't be silly." Harry assures him. "She’d be happy to meet you no matter what state you're in. Besides, you still look gorgeous. Even with your snotty nose and blotchy cheeks."  
  
Harry caresses his face, a reverent smile touching his eyes. Louis glows from the inside out, rolling his eyes as if the compliment doesn't mean anything to him at all.  
  
"If you wanted me to suck your dick _that_ badly, you should have just said so."  
  
Harry splutters. It’s a poor attempt at a normal human laugh.  
  
"Flustered Harold?" Louis smirks.  
  
"No." Harry glares. "I'm absolutely fine."  
  
"Are you actually fine or are you _fine_ like Ross was when Joey dated Rachel?"  
  
They both giggle.  
  
"The second one." Harry chuckles. "Definitely the second one."  
  
Louis winks.  
  
"I thought so."  
  
Harry grins back at him and tugs on his hand.  
  
"So are you coming or what? I’ll ask Niall to take Moo and you can sleep the whole way there. I’ll even let you bring your thermos in the jeep."  
  
"Oh no not your precious jeep." They might have had this argument before. Once or Twice. "I couldn't possibly! The cost of the upholstery alone!"  
  
Harry rolls his eyes.  
  
"Lay off the sarcasm, Sniffles."  
  
Louis glares and flips him the bird.  
  
"Guess I am coming. Someone's got to save Anne from that obnoxious personality of yours."  
  
Harry cackles.  
  
"Oh because you're not obnoxious at all?"  
  
"No." Louis sniffs. "Clearly not. She hasn't even met me yet and your mother already loves me. I think that's a pretty good sign."  
  
Harry squeezes his knee, helpless to pretend.  
  
"You're right, it is."  
  
*-*-*  
  
As soon as they get in the car, Harry tucks Louis' doona in around him and grabs his hands, wrapping them around the thermos. It makes Louis giggle and tilt his head at Harry like a playful puppy.  
  
"You're such an idiot Harold."  
  
The way he lights up makes it feel like the highest order of compliment.  
  
"Sit back and drink your tea.” Harry orders him. “It’s a long trip.”  
  
Louis furrows his eyebrows, licking an errant drop of Yorkshire from his bottom lip. He could be a tea model, if such a thing exists. Harry does his best not to stare. Louis just happens to be the prettiest person Harry’s ever seen, even with a snotty nose and chapped lips.

"You're in Cheshire right? Surely, it's not that long a drive."  
  
"You’re right, it’s not that long. For regular people.” Harry tilts his head. “You're like a four-year-old on crack."  
  
Louis' laugh scrunches his eyes up so prettily, Harry can't breathe.  
  
"Harold, I'm sick. What damage could I possibly do?"  
  
"I dunno..." Harry's lips twitch into a smirk. "I only know I can never can let my guard down when I’m around you."  
  
How very true that is. Louis doesn't seem to notice the double meaning. He simply nods, grinning like he's been told the same thing before. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if he has. Turning the key in the ignition, Harry starts the jeep and sets off down the road, Louis settling in on his side. He’s scarfing down some hobnobs he found in the glove box, his doona wound all the way around his body, cloaking him from head to toe.  
  
"You right there my hungry little caterpillar?"  
  
Louis cracks one open just to glare at him.  
  
"When I am returned to my fullest health, I will exact my violent revenge."  
  
"Okay," Harry glances at him out the corner of his eye. "But for now I can tease you however I please. You're too weak to stop me."  
  
He taps Louis on the nose, snickering at the way it twitches. “Can’t decide if you’re a caterpillar or a bunny rabbit with that twitchy nose.”  
  
"I am the king of violence! Mark my words Harry Styles, I will end you."

The King of Violence drops off ten minutes later, snoring noisily with a half bitten hobnob perched precariously on his duvet covered knee.  Harry glances at him periodically, turning to gaze at him at every red traffic light. He’s relieved to see no signs of the dreaded nightmares. Perhaps Louis is so unwell his body is managing to suck him into a deeper, more peaceful sleep. Whatever it is, it makes Harry smile. His little snores are what Harry imagines angry bear cubs might sound like in their sleep but he looks so cute doing it, Harry doesn't have the heart to wake him.  
  
Halfway through the drive, a sleeping Louis smacks his lips together and reaches his hand across the gearstick. Harry steers it back beneath his covers, only to find it creeping out again of its own accord. After several repetitions, Harry gives in. He holds Louis' hand to his thigh, intertwining their fingers without a moment’s thought. Louis sighs deeply but it's _what_ he sighs that makes Harry's heart leap into his throat.  
  
"Harry." He exhales contentedly, then squeezes his hand tighter.  
  
He's not awake. There are no signs he knows he's actually holding Harry's hand right now. It means....it means Louis must be dreaming about him right now. Harry wonders if whatever dream he’s having is staving off his nightmares. The thought of that is intoxicating and Harry can barely keep his eyes on the road for the remainder of the trip, too besotted with the boy beside him. He can’t believe his Nightmare Boy keeps sighing his name like it's some kind of prayer.  
  
"Baby we're here."

Harry gently rubs his shoulder, cupping the side of his face. Louis tilts his face into the touch, his soft, pink skin meeting Harry’s milky white palm. Bleary blue eyes reluctantly blink open, Louis’ whole face drooping exhaustedly.  
  
"Did you just call me baby?"  
  
_Shit._  
  
Harry’s cheeks are suddenly aflame.  
  
"No?"  
  
Louis looks a bit sceptical about that but doesn't fight him on it, _thank god_.  
  
"Alrighty then. So are you going to carry me in or do I have to walk?"  
  
"Carry you?" Harry huffs a disbelieving laugh. "Why would I carry you?"  
  
"Because I'm sick." Louis pouts. "And you said you'd take care of me."  
  
"There is no way." Harry scoffs. "Now get out and bring your half empty thermos with you."  
  
*-*-*  
  
When Anne opens the door, Harry’s holding him in his arms. Both their packs are slung across his shoulder, a half empty thermos poking out the top of Harry’s.  
  
"Hi," Harry says, flatly. "I have a delivery for you. I’m just warning you though, it weighs about as much as a small elephant."  
  
Louis bristles at that. Taking the thermos from Harry’s bag, he uses it to whack him in the chest. Anne, looking completely unruffled by the violence, grins at them and ushers them in with welcoming hands.  
  
"You must be Louis." She beams, reaching out a hand for him to take.  
  
Her hand encloses his tightly and Louis is enveloped in the kind of warmth he thought only her son’s touch could provide.  
  
“Oh darling, your little hands are just freezing!”  
  
Harry lets him down when they walk past the entrance way into the living area. Louis can't help but huff a little.  
  
"They're not _that_ little."  
  
Harry snorts and reaches out to touch his mother's forearm.  
  
"Mum, Louis has a bit of an issue with his size. You might want to leave the entire subject alone.”  
  
Anne chuckles at that and guides Louis down onto one of the couches, pressing a hand to the back of his shoulder.  
  
"That's okay love. Harry’s also very sensitive about things like that. Don’t ever try to lecture him about his hair."  
  
Louis giggles, looking back and forth between the two Styles'. They look remarkably similar with their shiny dark tresses and uniquely green eyes. There's obvious kindness there too. It’s more kindness than most people can ever be expected to give. They look at Louis like he needs to be nurtured and they can’t help but want to do it. The sensation of it settles deep in his belly, filling him with contentment and wonder.  
  
"Gee thanks mum." Harry rolls his eyes.

Dropping down next to Louis, he instantly drags Louis’ socked feet into his lap. It's become a bit of a habit for them now. They always seem to be touching, even if it’s only in some small way. Skin on skin, lips to hair, hand in hand. They are extreme cuddlers and none of it ever feels even remotely wrong. Unless a third party is present. That's when the questions start.  
  
"Is she right Harold?" He smirks. "Do you have a thing about your hair?"  
  
"I just don't like people telling me how I should wear it!" Harry rears up from the couch. "It's my hair! If they don't like it, they should...they should bloody well get their own!"  
  
He seems to realise immediately what he's just said but it's too late for Anne and Louis whose laughter echoes around the room.  
  
"Harry!" Louis’ throat rasps. "You're an idiot."  
  
"Oh Louis darling, your voice sounds terrible. Do you want some hot water with a bit of lemon, love? Or maybe just some tea?" Anne offers, reaching out to stroke his hair.  
  
Louis preens, leaning into the touch. It's like meeting the second mother he didn't even know he had. It doesn't occur to him till much later that Anne is treating him the same way Harry did. She treats him like someone she's known her whole life and not like someone she's just met. Maybe Harry really does talk about him a lot, maybe Anne knows more than he thought.  
  
"He just called me an idiot and you're offering him tea?" Harry laughs, incredulous.  
  
It doesn't do much to disguise the fondness lacing his tone. Not when he's got a hand wrapped around the sole of Louis' foot, massaging him gently.  
  
"Well," Anne's face tweaks into a delighted smile. "I'm just so happy that you boys are here. The least I can do is look after him."  
  
Harry's face softens visibly and Louis finds himself staring at him with little more than a giddy grin. Harry probably couldn’t be any more endearing if he tried. Louis startles slightly when he turns and finds Anne watching him with a knowing smirk.  
  
"How about it, little love? Would you like a cuppa?"  
  
"I'd love one. Yorkshire, if you have it please. Just a splash of milk, no sugar." Louis' voice is no more than a weak croak. "Thank you, Anne and thanks for having me. You and your son share the same generous spirit."  
  
Anne's cheeks lift with beaming pride. She plants a wet kiss on his forehead.  
  
"Oh stop it you. You're always welcome here, okay? I was so worried about my little boy going off to uni all on his own, no one familiar to guide him through it. Knowing he has you by his side, knowing how happy he's been since he met you, it soothes a poor mother’s worried soul."  
  
Louis doesn't say anything. Can't, really. It’s not because his throat is scratchy and unusable. It's because there's a huge lump in it, the size of Jupiter, making it impossible to speak. He thinks Anne reads it in his expression because she gently cups the back of his head. Tilting it towards her, she lays another kiss in his hair. With that, she bustles off to the kitchen, leaving the both of them to talk.  
  
"Wow," Harry laughs, squeezing his foot.  
  
"Wow what?"  
  
Louis wriggles his toes, asking for more pressure. Harry complies.  
  
"I've never seen her latch on to anyone so quickly." Harry tells him, all lit up. "I think she actually wants to adopt you."  
  
Louis giggles, pushing his foot into Harry's grasp.  
  
"Don't be silly."  
  
"Did you see how many times she kissed you?" Harry raises his eyebrows. "Either she wants to adopt you or she's trying to steal your germs so she can beg off work sick."  
  
Louis laughs at that, falling back against the cushions.

Looking around, he sees more than a dozen pictures of Harry scattered amongst the various knick knacks which line the walls and cabinets. It's a homey space, done in vibrant oranges and deep reds. There are a lot of assorted ornaments packed in close together, some of them quite beautiful. Louis especially likes this ornate silver bird cage hanging from the roof in the corner. There's no actual bird inside it though which is just a touch pretentious. Louis has no doubts as to where it came from.  
  
"You got them that birdcage, didn't you?" He tips his thumb toward it, smirking knowingly.  
  
Harry's ears redden ever so slightly while he firmly presses his thumb into the top of Louis' foot.  
  
"Maaaaybe."  
  
Louis giggles and continues his thorough visual inspection of the room. He can't help but be a little bit enchanted by the many pictures of Baby Harry scattered around the room. He’s just so chubby cheeked and gorgeous.  
  
"You were a cute baby," Louis comments. "What happened?"  
  
Harry gasps, offended, dropping Louis' foot as though he’s been shocked.  
  
"No," Louis whines, wriggling his toes against Harry's stomach. "Please."  
  
Harry sighs, annoyed but relents anyway, recommending the massage. A sudden cough wracks Louis' body, pulling him forward until he's just about keeling over. It lasts a few minutes and makes him feel terribly nauseous. When Anne comes back with their tea, her eyes are lined with deep worry.  
  
"We really should get you to bed, love. I'll bring your tea up and Harry can check your temperature."  
  
Louis pouts, sinking into the cushions.  
  
"But I just got here.” He whines. “I haven't even heard any embarrassing stories about Harold yet."  
  
Anne chuckles and ruffles his hair good naturedly.  
  
"There’ll be plenty of time for that later, I promise but for now, you really need to get some rest."  
  
Harry leans across the couch and squeezes his forearm, a single thumb skating down over his wrist. He’s very tactile, this one. Anne seems to think so too if the way she’s staring at them is any indication.  
  
"She's right Lou. You don't look so good."  
  
Louis begrudgingly agrees so they set him up in Harry's room with a box of tissues, a huge mug of tea and an especially woolly blanket. Anne leaves them both to it as Harry checks his temperature, tutting softly at the results.  
  
"What?" Louis croaks. "Is it bad?"  
  
Harry smooths a hand over his forehead, watching him closely.  
  
"It's fine babe, just a little high. Do you feel hot?"  
  
"No," Louis shakes his head. "I’m freezing."  
  
"Do you have a warmer jumper? This one’s a bit thin." Harry says, tugging at the white threadbare shirt he’d changed into before they left.  
  
Louis shakes his head, avoiding Harry’s insistent gaze.  
  
"Lou," He groans. "How could you forget something like that?"  
  
"I don't know," Louis voice comes out small and sad. "I just did."  
  
It's embarrassing how sad Louis feels. He forgot a jumper, so what? But in his current state of health, it feels like the end of the word. Disappointing Harry feels like the end of the world. Shows just how dramatic he really is.  
  
"It's okay." Harry says soothingly. Is it just Louis or is he cooing? "You can wear mine babe."  
  
Louis ignores the end of that sentence, the same way he's ignoring the fact that Harry obviously called him baby in the car earlier, or that he slipped up just before too. Those kinds of pet names just don't make for a platonic friendship. Which is all Louis wants. Obviously.  
  
Harry sheds his warm sherpa lined jacket and immediately cloaks him in it. There's a private little smile on his face when Louis sticks his arms in it, drowning in the material as usual.  
  
"Okay, you just rest now." Harry says, settling the duvet around him. "I'll just be downstairs."  
  
Louis closes his eyes and holds it for a good three seconds before he whimpers, "downstairs?"  
  
"Yeah, Lou. You can call me up if you need."  
  
Harry's being so gentle and so lovely but Louis’ need is too great. It's selfish, is what it is and completely inappropriate. But Louis' throat feels positively raw, as if someone scraped at it with a knife and all he wants is for somebody to cuddle him.  
  
"You're not gonna stay with…” he bites down on a quivering lip, "...you’re not gonna stay with me?"  
  
Harry stares at him for a moment with an intense but unreadable look in his eyes. His Adam's apple bobs up and down in his throat and he looks like he might say no. Louis reaches out to grab his hand, lips quivering freely now.  
  
"Please." He begs. "Please stay with me. Just till I fall asleep."  
  
Harry's voice is almost as coarse as Louis' when he replies.  
  
"Of course," he breathes roughly. "Of course I'll stay with you."  
  
Louis' lips part in a weak smile and Harry slides into bed with him, immediately pulling Louis’ shivering body into his chest.  
  
"You don't mind?" Louis checks even as he nestles in closer, nuzzling Harry's jaw. It smells of clean, crisp cologne. It smells of _men_. "You could get sick, you know."  
  
"I know." Harry says firmly. He runs his nose up behind Louis' ear, producing a very different kind of chill altogether. "But I want you to get some rest."  
  
Louis doesn't say anything, once again overwhelmed by Harry’s sheer goodness. He does plant a none too subtle kiss on the underside of Harry's jaw, hoping it won't be misconstrued. Thankfully for Louis, he's asleep before he can worry about it any further than that.  
  
*-*-*  
  
Once Louis is fast asleep and snoring, Harry slips out the bed beside him and trots downstairs. He finds his mum sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea and reading the paper. He fixes himself a cup and sits down beside her.

“You know he only snores when he’s sick.” Harry muses, grinning to himself. “How cute is that?”  
  
"So you're in love with him then." His mum says, not looking up from her page.  
  
"I'm--I'm falling in love with him, yeah." Harry stammers, completely taken off guard.  
  
She looks up, gently nudging his tea towards him.  
  
"I’ll talk, you drink your tea."

Harry does just that.

"He's lovely, really.” She gushes. “I'm so glad you've met him. Nanna would love him, don't you think?"

"She would." Harry readily agrees. The thought of Louis meeting his extended family is painful but only because he wants it so much. "I think they'd get on like a house on fire."  
  
"Just like you two," she muses, grinning a little.  
  
Harry chuckles.  
  
"I suppose we do sometimes. We bicker a lot though. He's very stubborn."  
  
"So are you," she laughs. "You always make it work though, don’t you?"  
  
"Yeah," he can feel the affection lingering in his voice. “We always do. He’s amazing mum. He's everything I want and so much I didn't know I needed."  
  
"My god," His mum wipes at her eyes, just starting to brim over. "My baby's in love."

Harry chuckles.

"I s'pose I am, yeah."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So?"  
  
His mum tuts then rolls her eyes.  
  
"So when are you going to tell him the truth? When are you going to tell him that you've been looking after him since before you even properly met?"  
  
"It's not that simple mum," he sulks. "There's no guarantee he'll feel grateful. Zayn seems to think I crossed a line."  
  
"Oh nonsense." She blows air out the corner of her mouth. "You did for that boy what most people wouldn't even do for a close friend. You sheltered him from the pain he was in and at your own expense too. Don’t think I haven’t seen how it’s affected you too. In some ways, I do think it wasn't the wisest choice. Maybe you could have handled it better but my word, Harry Edward Styles, I raised you _righ_ t. I raised you to be someone who doesn’t let anyone’s pain go unheard of or untended to. You did the best thing you thought you could at the time. You tried to save that gorgeous boy from himself."  
  
Harry's face breaks into a lopsided smile. He grasps his mum's hand.  
  
"Thanks. I just don't want him to hate me, mum…I don't think I could take it. Besides, he said he doesn't date roommates. He thinks it's messy, or something. Although sometimes…sometimes I feel like I'm changing his mind. I feel like if I just give it time, he'll wake up to how he feels about me."

"And if he doesn't?" She says with worried eyes.

It doesn't fill Harry with a lot of hope.  
  
"If he doesn't, I might have to take matters into my own hands. All I know is I can't let him go. I can't be without him now."  
  
His mum sighs.  
  
"Authors are going to write books about you two one day. There'll be articles in The Sun."  
  
He scoffs.  
  
"Oh please. As if two dumb boys in love would ever make the front page of anything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I wasn't 100% on this chapter but at the same time felt like I couldn't make it any better.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Hot Luke! Featuring teary angst and a side of jealousy.

"You sure you don't want me to stay? I know mum gave you some stuff for your nose but I can look after you too." Harry pouts, ridiculously put out. "We can lay in bed and watch Titanic."  
  
"First of all, you've promised Niall you'd go out for a pint with him three times this past week. You can't bail on him again," Louis scolds. "And second of all, I'm sick, not dying. Why would I voluntarily agree to watch titanic with you?"  
  
"You don't like titanic?" Harry's jaw is halfway to the floor. "It's the greatest love story of all _time_ , Louis."  
  
"I love titanic, actually. I just don't like watching it when I've already got watery eyes and a nose like a leaky faucet." He argues. "Besides, Titanic is _not_ the greatest love story of all time."  
  
Pausing for dramatic emphasis, he winks. "Grease is."  
  
The other boy lets out a hiccup of a laugh, spluttering into the shell of his hand.  
  
"You're ridiculous." He says, all twinkly eyed. "I'm surprised my mum even liked you."  
  
Louis punches him weakly. It's the best he can do when he's still somewhat incapacitated. The joking insult doesn't bother him as much as it should. Perhaps because when they left this afternoon, Anne had held him in her arms for what felt like ten years. She seemed to really enjoy his sense of humor and seemed pretty fond of him too. There was only one thing she said to him that had him doubting himself a little. Harry had just gone upstairs to take a quick shower when Anne beckoned Louis over to her…  
  
"So," she said curtly. "You like Harry?"  
  
"Of course I like Harry." Louis said with a jovial smile. "Anne, c'mon."  
  
She shushed him, looking strangely tense.  
  
"I'm sorry to do this love, but for the next few minutes I'm not ‘Anne,’ okay?”  
  
Louis wrinkled his nose confusedly.  
  
"Then who are you?"  
  
"A mother protecting her cub."  
  
"What?" Louis sputtered, hackles rising. “He doesn't need protecting. Not from me!"  
  
"I hate to break it to you darling but he _does_. Harry thinks so much of you Louis, he really does. I've heard it in his voice and I’m just concerned that you don’t think of him in the same way? I may be a bit biased in this regard but he really is a special person, Louis. He's an incredible person to have on your side, an incredible person to have in your life at all really."  
  
"I know that." Louis swallowed. “I’m not about to take him for granted. He’s the most special person I've ever met."  
  
He hadn't met to say that much out loud but Anne's face broke into a glowing smile so Louis couldn't bring himself to regret it.  
  
"I'm so glad love, I really am. Harry deserves someone like you."  
  
"He--someone like me?" Louis' cheeks were warm. "Me and Harry...we're not--"  
  
"I know." Anne’s knowing smile contradicted her agreement. "But it's true. You're a lovely boy, Louis."  
  
Louis sniffled slightly, a side effect of having a water feature for a nose. It had nothing to do with Anne's sweet sentiment, nothing at all.  
  
"Need a tissue?" She asked, grinning softly.  
  
Louis pulled a used handkerchief from his pocket.  
  
"Oh no, I'm all good. Harry gave me this."  
  
Anne's expression flickered for a second, almost giving way.  
  
"That's very special to him. It belonged to his grandmother, you know."  
  
Louis choked on his own snot.  
  
"It's his grandmother's? And he just let me blow my disgusting bogeys into it? Why would he do that?!"  
  
Anne smiled serenely.  
  
"I don't know love, you tell me."

*-*-*  
  
"Well if that’s how you feel, maybe we should just watch Grease? You could prove it to me." Harry says, with a tentative smile.  
  
"Harry," He huffs, trying not to be fond and failing quite miserably. "What about Niall?"  
  
"He'll be _fine_." Harry reassures him. "He's Irish." As if that means anything. "You're sick and I need cuddles.”

"I'm sick but _you n_ eed cuddles? How is that fair?”

Harry smirks and lifts the covers, climbing into his bed.

"Oh it isn't but I think you'll let me cuddle you anyway."

Louis rolls his eyes but lifts his head up onto Harry's muscled pec anyway.

"Oh, really? And why is that Harold?"

"Because," his face twitches into a grin. "You told my mum I'm the most special person you've ever met."

Louis groans, swatting at Harry’s chest.

"I'm gonna kill you! And your mum. And the stupid administrative staff member who thought it would be a good idea to make you my roommate. You know what, maybe I should make a complaint.”  
  
Harry giggles, snaking his arms around Louis' waist and squeezing tightly.  
  
"Noo don't leave me!"   
  
He's so obnoxious and embarrassing. Louis hates him, really. In spite of that, he spends the next few hours snuggled in Harry’s burly arms, quietly inhaling his shampoo.

*-*-*

“Lou love, wake up. I’ve brought you some tea.”

Harry swings the tea around Louis’ face, gently wafting the smell past his nose.

“Agh,” The chestnut-haired boy gurles, barely conscious. His voice is enticingly raspy. “Tea?”

Harry’s grin is soft and laced with fondness.

“Yeah Lou, tea.”

Harry watches Louis stretch with barely concealed desire, the movement of his fit arm muscles like some kind of softcore porn. Immediately afterwards, Louis curls back in on himself like a sleepy kitten.

“No, Lou.” Harry whines, huffing an exasperated laugh. He drags the smaller boy’s arms away from his body, rubbing his thumbs over the tiny bones that are his elfin wrists. “It’s time to get up, love. Don’t go back to sleep.”

He chuckles at the look of utter displeasure on Louis’ face.

“Throat hurts,” he rasps, wrinkling his nose.

“I know love, that’s what the tea is for. I put some honey and lemon in it.”

“You didn’t?” Louis cracks one eye open. Tearing his wrists from Harry’s grip, he rears up angrily. “I’m not drinking that!”

“I didn’t actually.” Harry grins. “But it got you up, now didn’t it?”

Louis smacks him across the chest with the back of his hand, expression stormy.

“Gimme it now.”

Harry quickly retrieves the tea from the bedside table, handing it over with a playful smirk.

“Oh come now, don’t look at me like that. I made you tea!”

Louis takes a disdainful sip. Harry would never have believed such a thing were possible if not for meeting this boy. Thankfully, as soon as the tea soaks into his tongue, the storm clears, making way for bright beaming sunshine. Louis’ eyes flutter closed, contentment sweeping his features. Harry’s never before been so impressed with such a mundane act as tea drinking. Louis’ eyes fall open afterwards and he pushes the tea back onto the table, a lilting smile drifting across his features.

“Thank you babe,” he murmurs and leans in close.

Pressing a dainty hand to Harry’s chest, he catches Harry’s lips between his own, tugging at them ever so gently. As if that’s something they do all the time. As if their morning routine consists of Harry making Louis tea and Louis kissing him thank you. As if it’s that simple.

Harry’s hands fly to Louis’ wrists, encircling them tightly as he lets out a feverish kind of gasp and rocks himself ever so slightly into the kiss. He squeezes Louis’ wrists just once and Louis outright whimpers, which is an interesting response to say the least.

“Shit,” Louis tears his mouth away. With pinkened cheeks and erratic bright blue eyes, he’s a beautiful sight to behold. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

The kiss can’t have lasted more than a minute but Harry’s still shocked by the embarrassed flush in Louis’ cheeks. How can he not have noticed Harry kissing him back? How can he not have felt that?

“Lou, I—“

 _I kissed you back_ , he’s about to say, _I want you_.

“Can we just pretend that this never happened? Please Harry?” Louis begs, voice full of desperation.

Harry can’t do that, he realises brokenly. It’s not the kind of kiss you forget. It’s not the kind of kiss you _want_ to forget. Feeling Louis against him like that felt euphoric, as though kissing this boy is all he was ever meant to do. Yet the look on Louis’ face tells Harry all he needs to know. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want Harry.

“Of course Lou.” Harry agrees and it’s not his fault if his voice comes out a little hoarse. “You were just confused, right? You were still half asleep.”

“Right.” Louis echoes, sounding way too determined to forget it.

It’s breaking Harry’s heart in two.

That’s it then. There’s no possibility of this ending the way he wants. Because what Harry wants the most from Louis is gratitude kisses in the morning and goodnight kisses in the evening. What he wants is this boy, nightmare ridden and all. But most of all, what he wants is for Louis never to look at him that way again. As if he were nothing more than a mistake needing to be fixed. As if the only thing Louis is capable of feeling for him is regret.

*-*-*

It starts early the next day. Harry wakes up to Louis braiding his hair whilst straddling him from behind.

“Um, morning?” Harry’s voice rumbles confusedly in his chest.

“Morning.” Louis chirps, disturbingly bright.

After a day of total silence yesterday, Louis carefully avoiding all of Harry’s attempts at normality, this is entirely unexpected.

“What are you doing?” Harry slurs, shuddering with pleasure as Louis pulls the braid tight.

“Your hair, _obviously._ ”

Harry rolls his eyes.

“Yes, but…why are you doing it _now_?”

“Because,” Louis’ says, voice far too bright for this early hour. “I know how much you love having your hair played with in the mornings.”

It’s true. He does. It was something Louis discovered by accident one morning. He’d tugged on Harry’s hair to wake him up, unprepared for the drawn-out moan that resulted. It’s safe to say Harry’s not always fully in control of his body’s instinctual reactions, especially when he’s just woken up. Exhibit A, he thinks, discretely pressing his hard on into the sheets.

“Want me to stop?” Louis asks, obviously pleased.

He probably wouldn’t be so smug if he knew how hard Harry is for him right now.

“Yeah, I need to take a shower.” A cold shower. A very, very cold shower. He reaches around to squeeze one of Louis’ thick thighs. “C’mon, off you get.”

Louis scrambles off him silently, landing next to him on the bed with a quiet thump. Harry rolls over, keeping the duvet as a barrier between his erection and Louis. He probably shouldn’t have worried, Louis seems a bit preoccupied, looking at him with a strangely visceral sense of disappointment.

“So you’re just going to wash it out then?” He asks, solemn faced.  

Harry can’t even begin to understand why he looks so lost. As though Harry’s threatened their friendship just by daring to wash out a braid.

“Well I have to shower Lou, I’m sorry. If it’s that important to you, you can redo it after.”

Louis shakes his head, soft brown eyebrows drawn together above mournful eyes.

“No, it’s okay. You go.”

Harry laughs, a bit nervous.

“I’m just going to the shower block. I’ll be right back, Lou.”

“Yeah.” Louis agrees but his face spells defeat. “I know.”

Harry stares at him for a moment, waiting for Louis to burst into laughter or mock him for believing his dramatics.

No such luck.

After a minute of tense silence, Harry relents, grabbing his stuff and heading off to the bathroom. He doesn’t look back. He’s not sure what he’d see if he did; the burning regret he glimpsed yesterday or the strangely intense fear he saw just now. He’s not sure what hurts more, the thought that Louis regrets ever meeting him or the thought that even now, after rejecting him completely, Louis’ still holding on as if nothing need change at all.

*-*-*  
Harry knows things have changed, whether Louis can admit it or not. He knows this because far from things getting better, they actually seem to be getting worse. For starters, Louis won’t even let him leave the dorm room without a thorough explanation of where he’s going, what he’s doing and when he’ll be back. He even insists on coming with him to help brew their morning tea. This is despite the fact, he’s quite happily accepted Harry’s offer to make and deliver him tea countless times in the past. Aside from that, he proceeds to text Harry streams of nonsensical emojis throughout his Medieval History lecture, becoming so insistent as to call Harry when he receives no reply.

“Lou?” He hisses into the speaker, ignoring the dirty looks from those around him. “Why are you calling me? You know I have lecture!”

“Because,” the other boy huffs, clearly put out, “you weren’t replying to my texts.”

Harry grumbles.

“You were sending me poop emojis!”

That earns him a few startled looks and one outright glare from this one hawk eyed girl a few rows down.

“So?” Louis sounds genuinely upset now. “You didn’t even consider replying, did you?”

Harry moans.

“What was I supposed to say? Thanks for the poop emojis but I’m trying to learn here?”

“If this is about—“ Louis cuts off whatever he was about to say, voice bizarrely choked. “You’ve been acting strange and I don’t like it.”

“ _I’m_ acting strange?” Harry’s laugh sounds a bit demented.

Apparently the girl a few rows down thinks so too because she glares at him as though he must be the devil incantate _._

“Yes!” Louis’ voice breaks. “You’re all…” He imagines Louis waving his little hand around, “... _different_.”

Harry feels like he’s the only one who’s not in on the joke. Louis sounds like he’s about to cry and it doesn’t make a lick of sense.

“Louis, tell me what’s going on. Please. Because I know you’re not actually mad about _this_. You can’t be.”

“Just forget it,” Louis breathes down the line. “I’ll see you tonight.”

He hangs up the phone and Harry is left to put the puzzle pieces together on his own. He doesn’t do a very good job of it, nor does he do a good job of listening to his lecturer thereafter.

When Harry gets home that night, Louis is asleep in his bed. Harry’s, that is, not his own. He’s also wearing one of Harry’s shirts. Come to think of it, the ring on his finger is more than familiar too. Harry usually wears it on his middle finger but obviously Louis could only manage to fit it on his thumb.

The sight should rightfully frustrate him. Especially after the confusion of the last two days. Still, Harry can’t help but feel lucky. He feels lucky to know this boy who chose to sleep in his bed. This boy who stole into his wardrobe the same way he stole into Harry’s heart. Louis is infinitely more beautiful than any boy who’s ever slept in Harry’s bed before and he looks unusually peaceful sleeping there. It stirs Harry’s heart and fills him with luscious hope. Maybe they can make it through the night without an episode.

Harry quietly drops his coat to the floor, slips off his jeans and climbs into bed with Louis, sighing deeply. He lays beside Louis for a while, content just to watch him. He watches the way Louis’ gossamer eyelashes flutter in tandem with his heartbeat, the pace of which Harry knows almost as well as his own.

The temptation of it, however is too much. Just looking at him is not enough. Looking at him and not being able to kiss him is not enough. Harry pulls Louis’ hand onto his chest and spends the next hour tracing patters into it, spelling out the things he’ll never be able to say aloud, onto the palm of the boy he’d most like to say them to. Eventually he falls asleep, Louis’ hand clutched in his own.

*-*-*  
When Harry returns from a late lecture the following day, it’s to find Louis and the boys crowded around a laptop in _his_ bed, toting snacks and a twelve pack of beer. Harry can see the pile of crumbs forming beneath Niall while Liam’s arse is carving out a spot for itself in his pillow. Harry knows he’ll have to beat it back into shape later and it grates on his nerves, the four of them squished up together on his bed, getting drunk without him, laughing at what is presumably some dumb comedy movie. Usually, it wouldn’t annoy him this much but Harry’s been tetchy ever since this morning, when Louis was all over him like a needy little pup.

They woke up cuddling, wrapped around each other tight. Harry was convinced they couldn’t possibly get any more intimate, aside from kissing one another, which was so obviously out of bounds. Yet alas, Louis found a way to get even closer, nudging his head up under Harry’s chin, his hand roaming freely over Harry’s chest. It was intoxicating, to say the least, like every touch between them is. Yet it was suffocating too. Suffocating, to the point of pain.

Harry knows he can’t have Louis now, that’s been made abundantly clear but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to have his nose rubbed in it. If he can’t be close to Louis in the way he’d most like to, he’s not sure he can be close to him at all anymore. It’s a downer, to say the least. So when he comes home to find his best friends having a merry old time without him, including Louis, he feels let down. He’s spent the day contemplating the senseless heartbreak of life while Louis’ sat there laughing like he couldn’t be more pleased with how things have turned out. Harry’s skin is on fire.

“Harry!” Louis shouts as soon as he sees him, standing up shakily.

He stumbles over his own feet in his rush to cross the floor. It’s not hard to tell that he’s starting to feel the effects of however much he’s had to drink and Harry immediately slips the beer from his hand, planting it down on the bedside table. Louis doesn’t seem to notice, too busy relieving Harry of his bag and attaching himself to Harry in its place. Niall is snickering on the bed, elbowing Zayn who immediately cups Liam’s jaw and turns his head in their direction.

“He’s like a barnacle,” Niall guffaws. “And Harry’s the boat.”

Zayn looks charmed by the thought while Liam barely stifles a grin. Harry gives all three of them a sharp look. Dragging Louis over to the bed, he pointedly ignores the disgruntled snuffle released into his neck. The two of them collapse onto the bed, Louis half on top of him and Harry struggling to get out from underneath. He manages, _just_ but then Louis climbs right back into his lap as soon as he’s settled. Harry tenses up and Louis just happens to notice. _Brilliant._ The boy doesn’t notice his beer being removed from his own hand but he notices _this_.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, with a loopy smile.

It’s only half curious, as if he’s expecting the answer to be a resounding _no_. He looks so effortlessly gorgeous when he’s all rumpled like this, with his bed hair flopping over one eye and his long grey sleeves slinking down over the edges of his well bitten fingertips. His eyes are hazy but unmistakably bright blue, as if the alcohol running through his system has somehow concentrated the blue of his eyes. Harry can’t say no to him like this, nor can he ever really. It’s a hopeless task, trying to refuse him and Harry is a hopeless fool. Hopelessly devoted to a boy who’d rather pretend their kiss didn’t happen than risk it happening again.

“No,” he sighs, wrapping a supportive arm around Louis’ waist. “Just tired.”

“Sorry.” Louis pouts, eyes full of woe.

“’s not your fault,” Harry assures him, squeezing his side.

It feels like a lie. Perhaps because pretending nothing has changed between them has been the most exhausting part of his week. In fact, it’s the most exhausting thing Harry’s ever had to do. Someone he knew when he was younger once told him the hardest part of suffering isn’t the suffering itself, it’s the silence we drown in.

That’s what’s keeping Harry up at night when Louis’ long fallen asleep. It’s not Louis’ nightmares about his tumultuous past. It’s not Harry’s own memories of the kiss that missed. No, instead it’s the spaces between him and Louis. The _silence_. Even when Louis is all over him, clinging to Harry at all hours of the day, it doesn’t feel right. Not anymore. Probably because it’s not what Harry wants, not when it only reminds him of everything he can’t have.

They sit in peace for a while, the boys trading quite conversations back and forth. Louis is surprisingly calm now, settling back into Harry like he has no desire to ever move. It should relax him, given Louis’ tendency to wreak havoc on everyone and everything around him when he’s “buzzin,” the way he is now. However, it’s not within Harry to feel placated right now. Not when he’s got 5 foot 7 inches worth of temptation sitting right in his lap.

“So glad you’re home,” Louis whispers at some point, bringing Harry’s other arm around him.

Harry sighs, feeling frustrated but lets it go, choosing to focus on the movie instead. He manages this fairly successfully until Louis snuggles back into his chest, arse nestled tight against his groin. Louis’ head falls back onto his shoulder, placing his hair directly under Harry’s nose. With the curve of his neck elongated, he looks so sensual and soft, his throat just crying out to be worked over by Harry’s teeth and tongue.

It proves too much for Harry, overwhelmed by the smell of Louis’ moisturiser mingling with his sweet cologne, the curves of his body pressed up tight against Harry. Not to mention the way he _looks_ , painted in the half light of the screen, his skin glowing as though it’s iridescent. His eyes are like two glass cities, surrounded on all sides by water and reflecting the light of the sun,

“Louis.” Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can you please sit somewhere else?”

Louis twitches in his arms, turning back to meet his gaze.

“Oh?” His pouted lips are too much. “There’s not really enough room, is there?”

“I need you to move,” Harry enunciates each word, keeping his voice steady.

Louis grabs him by the forearm, pressing his thumb into Harry’s skin.

“Haz, what’s wrong?”

“Please don’t ask me that right now, I can’t tell you.”

“Why?” Louis’ face drops. “Is it…are you okay?”

He cradles Harry’s cheek in one hand, squeezing his shoulder with the other.

“No, I’m not actually. Can you just _stop_?”

Louis gulps, his cheeks hallowed in with shock.

“Stop?”

“Stop _trying_. Stop overcompensating. Stop acting like this is normal, okay? It’s not normal! Friends don’t touch like we do. Friends don’t share a bed every night or wake up tangled in each other’s embrace.”

Harry ignores the raised eyebrows from the other boys, all of who are attentively listening in right now.

“H-harry.” Louis’ bottom lip quivers, “you said we could forget that it ever happened.”

Harry scrunches his hair in his hands, feeling bitter.

“Well maybe I can’t. I mean god Louis, you won’t _let_ me. You’re all over me all the god damn time.” Harry shouts. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe I can take a fucking _breath_ without you there to oversee it?”

Louis shrinks away like he’s been zapped, his expression twisted into shock and hurt. There’s a wave of unbearable sadness building in his eyes, making them appear utterly translucent. His mouth looks one wobble away from drooping completely.

“Okay,” he mumbles. “Sorry.”

He scrambles off Harry’s lap like someone _pushed_ him, stumbling over his own feet in his hurry to reach the door. It makes Harry’s heart throb, remembering how Louis had stumbled over to him in a similar fashion when he first arrived. That was before. Now, Louis can’t seem to get away fast enough. The door clicks closed behind him before Harry can think to do anything to stop it. He’s left staring out after Louis, all forlorn, thinking maybe if he just glares hard enough, Louis might reappear.

“Well are you going to go after him or what?” Zayn demands, breaking Harry’s reverie.

Harry stays mum, chewing at the underside of his lip while his stomach burns with heavy guilt.

“Yeah Haz, that was pretty harsh.” Liam agrees, face lined with worry.

“You could have at least waited until we left,” Niall adds. “Maybe then you wouldn’t have humiliated him so badly.”

“Okay,” Harry snaps. “I get it. I’m an awful person who says awful things to people who don’t deserve it. But this wasn’t exactly unprovoked, okay? He kissed _me_ , not the other way round. He kissed me the other day and then he tried to pretend like it was nothing. He wanted me to pretend like it was nothing.”

“But you couldn’t,” Niall surmises, smirking a little. “Because you love him.”

“Well I wouldn’t go that far,” he denies hotly. “Love is a…strong word.”

Zayn rolls his eyes.

“You’re an idiot Harry. You may not be in denial the way he is but, my god you are the least spiritually aware person I know. That boy isn’t all over you because he’s trying to rub your face in it, Harry. He’s all over you because he’s terrified of losing you! And when you snapped at him just now, you only confirmed that he has. You made out as if he was suffocating you.”

“He was!” Harry protests, outraged. “I can’t breathe when he’s close to me like that!”

Zayn points a knowing finger at his face.

“Yes, because you love him but that’s not his doing, is it?”

“Isn’t it?” Harry mutters bitterly. “He’s never let me have even an inch of space.”

“Because you never wanted it.” Niall butts in. “And now he’s only doing what the two of you always did before the kiss. Sure, pretending the kiss didn’t happen is a dick move on his part…but c’mon Harry. He didn’t deserve what you just said to him and you know it. He doesn’t deserve to feel like you don’t want him at all anymore.”

“Of course I want him,” Harry moans, palming his forehead. “He’s all I want.”

“You messed up,” Liam rubs his shoulder. “But it’s okay. I’m sure you can work things out. He’ll come back later and you guys can talk.”

Harry raises his head.

“You think he’ll come back later?”

Liam sighs.

“I sure hope so. It’s tough seeing you like this.”

He laughs humourlessly.

“Oh I assure you mate, it’s not much fun being on the other end of it either.”

“I think I should go find him.” Zayn says determinedly. “He probably needs some spiritual guidance right about now.”

Harry rolls his eyes then blushes when he notices Liam glaring. Liam turns away from him, dragging Zayn back down by the collar and sealing their goodbye with a kiss.

“Good luck babe.”

Zayn smiles, ever the optimist.

“Oh I don’t need luck baby, I’ve got the spirits on my side.”

Harry’s not sure what’s more painful; having watched Louis walk out that door looking like he was about to shatter into a million pieces, or listening to this conversation right now.

He lays his head down against his pillow, curling his knees up against his chest. Shutting his eyes, he ignores the huge lump in his throat. It’s funny, his bed is currently occupied by two other boys and yet it still feels like the loneliest place in the world.

“Tell him I’m sorry Zayn.” He pleads. With exhaustion threatening to drag him under, he just manages to latch onto Niall’s ankle. “Wake me up when Lou comes back.”

*-*-*

Louis is just about to light up when Zayn appears around the side of the building, a half smile lifting his cheeks.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Louis rolls his eyes. It hurts a bit because his eyes are sore from crying but it’s worth it if it pisses Zayn off. It doesn’t work of course. Louis should have known, the King of Zen is above such trivial emotions as annoyance.

“I don’t, really. It’s a stress thing.”

Zayn hums.

“I don’t mind it myself. But you should try something mind altering. It pushes all conscious thought to the back of the mind.”

Louis snorts.

“I’ll take this miserable reality we live in over a fabricated one any day of the week. I don’t know what fucked up shit’s in your conscious but mine’s just fine.”

He sighs, watching Zayn’s face harden. He supposes it is possible to conjure up some annoyance.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just…not for me.”

“It’s okay.” Zayn grips his upper arm, squeezing gently. “Your spirit’s in pain.”

Louis might not know much about the mind body spirit connection, nor believe in it at all really but he has to agree with that last part. The feeling that’s upon him now is unmistakably hurt. There’s sadness there too, crushing his insides and a side of bitter shame, poisoning his mind.

Before the kiss even happened, he was worried about what Harry wanted from him. After it went down, those concerns just increased tenfold. Yes, it was Louis who instigated the kiss but after they drew back, it was Harry who looked at him like the sun rose and fell in his eyes. It was Harry whose lips flushed like freshly picked roses, daring Louis to lean back in for one more taste. Now it’s Harry who scares him half to death, poised to ask the very questions Louis doesn’t have the answers to. So it had to be Louis who shut it down. It was on him to restore them back to what they’d been before. Clearly though, his efforts have been in vain. Harry doesn’t seem to want him around.

“Yeah, well.” He blinks back tears. Crushing his cigarette between two fingers, he lets it fall to the ground and angrily stubs it out with his toe. “His words had the desired effect, I s’pose.”

“You think he meant for this to happen?” Zayn sounds shocked. “I really don’t think—“

“You don’t think Harry’s capable of it, do you?” Louis snaps back, tears falling freely now. “Did you not hear the way he spoke to me in there, Zayn? He said I was _suffocating_ him. He doesn’t want anything to do with me just because we kissed.”

Zayn looks mystified, shaking his head harder with every word.

“That’s not what he said. You’ve got it all wrong. Your spirit is lost Louis, trapped in a maze of unnecessary protections. And if you make it out, I think you’ll see that Harry isn’t trying to hurt you. You don’t really understand Harry’s feelings right now, or your own.”

“Fuck off Zayn,” Louis says bitingly. “If that’s how you feel then why are you down here with me and not up there with him?”

“Because I was worried about you,” he says. “I still am. No matter how Harry was feeling, he shouldn’t have said those things to you. He fucked up, I know that. So does he.”

Louis breathes out through his nose, trying to stem the embarrassing urge to cry again.

“I just…I wasn’t trying to confuse things, you know? I didn’t think he’d be so terrified of it happening again. Am I that abhorrent, Zayn? Is he that disgusted with me that we can’t even be close to each other anymore?”

“Oh Lou,” Zayn tugs him into a fierce hug. “I really do think you’re way off.”

Louis doesn’t listen. All he can think of is the look on Harry’s face when he’d yelled at him before, absolutely rabid with anger. He looked like he’d move out of their dorm before he’d ever let Louis near him again.

“Zayn?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we just not talk for a minute, please?” He begs, voice shaking.

“Course, Lou.” Zayn squeezes him tight, gently cupping the back of his head. “Now c’mon, let it out Lou. It’ll cleanse your spirit.”

Louis doesn’t know about the whole spirit cleansing thing but he can’t stop the wave of despair cresting over his head. The dam breaks within moments, leaving him sobbing into Zayn’s jumper and clinging to his small shoulders.

“I just want to go back,” he cries. “If I hadn’t of kissed him, everything would be okay right now.”

“Shh,” Zayn rocks him gently. “it’ll be okay. You and Harry will be okay, I promise.”

But Louis doesn’t believe they will. Not anymore.

*-*-*

Harry’s awoken by the sound of someone swearing. He sits bolt upright straight away, certain that his hair must be a horrifying mess upon his head. It doesn’t faze him, not in the slightest. Not when Louis’ standing there, dressed in a black shirt that’s completely see through and dark hip hugging jeans, snug as anything against his arse. He’s not looking at Harry, his face painted in frustration as he fiddles with the necklace around his neck, twisting it back and forth while he tries to untangle to it.

“I’ve never seen you wear a necklace before. Or that top.” Harry blurts out.

It startles Louis who jumps about a foot in the air, startling Moo who was curled up peacefully atop his bed. The terrified kitten scrambles under the bed while Louis places a hand over his chest, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Jesus Christ Harry, you scared me half to death!”

When he pulls his hand away, Harry gets a closer look at the chain around his neck. There’s a paper plane hanging from the middle.

“That’s my necklace.” Harry says, a little breathless. Then, “Why didn’t Niall wake me? He said he’d wake me when you came back.”

“I thought it might look nice on me. You can have it back if it bothers you so much.” Louis snaps, ignoring his question.

He pulls the necklace back over his head and makes to toss it at Harry. Harry vigorously shakes his head.

“No, keep it!” He begs. “It looks good on you.”

He’s not lying either. Harry can imagine that in a perfect world he would have given it to Louis himself. He’d probably have asked him to be his boyfriend in the same breath.

“Fine.” Louis’ cheeks are hot. With embarrassment or anger, Harry can’t tell. “I will.”

“Okay,” Harry says, eyes as wide as saucers.

All he wanted was a chance to talk to Louis and now he’s completely speechless. It probably has a little something to do with the way Louis’ hair is all feathered out over his eyes, making them look impossibly blue. He waves a can of hairspray around his head, cologne wafting off him in waves that smell deliciously sweet.

“Are you…going somewhere?” Harry swallows, trying not to look directly at his arse.

Louis ignores his question again, finally deigning to answer the one from before.

“Niall didn’t wake you up because I asked him not to,” he says calmly, slipping on some vans.

“Why?” Harry demands. “Lou, we need to talk. I’m sorry about what I said before. I didn’t mean it, I just—“

“You’re just sick of me.” Louis says despondently. There’s still a little pink in his cheeks, as if he can feel the heat in Harry’s gaze. “You feel like I’m suffocating you. It’s fine Harry, I get it.”

“It’s not fine though.” Harry stumbles on his doona but still makes it across the room in two quick strides. “I should never have said those things to you.”

He cups Louis’ face, fingers gliding determinedly over the apples of Louis’ cheeks, still gloriously pink.

_Sweet creature._

“I suppose you are going out then?” Harry asks him, reaching down to untangle the knotted chain.

Louis swallows every time Harry’s fingers graze his throat.

“Um y-yeah. One of my friends, Luke…he’s in a couple of my classes. He said he wanted to take me out.”

Harry’s hands still.

“On a date?”

“Oh.” Louis’ eyes flash with shock. “Oh, no not a date! I don’t think? He said we’re just going to go out and dance for a bit.”

Harry lets go of the necklace, successfully untangled and steps back, panicking. This is why it hurts so much to be close to Louis right now. Because he knows it’s only a matter of time before Louis meets someone else…and it seems he already has. There is no doubt in Harry’s mind that this Luke, whomever he is, has every intention of getting into Louis’ pants. You don’t take someone as gorgeous as Louis out dancing, without the intention of putting your hands all over him. The thought makes Harry’s blood run cold.

“Stay safe,” he begs, tone a touch too desperate for the conversation they’re having. “And um…I’m sorry? Again. I don’t want to lose you Louis.”

“Harry,” Louis’ eyes fall to the ground where he’s nudging his toes together, somewhat agitated. “I just think, maybe us living together isn’t the best idea right now? I’m thinking of asking for a new dormmate.”

“What?” Pain lashes Harry’s chest. His voice breaks in the middle. “Louis, we can work this out. _Please._ Please don’t run from me.”

Louis seems to take that as an insult because he whips his head up lightning fast. His eyes are dark with fury and there’s no doubt his flush is caused by anger this time.

“I’m not running from you Harry, I’ve got nothing to be afraid of. You were right today. I don’t need to be there for every breath you take and you know what? Maybe I don’t need to be near you at all anymore.”

Harry takes another step back and comes into contact with his bed. He sits down on it, shaking from head to toe. His eyes fill with hot, prickly tears and the kind of hurt he can’t hide as he raises his eyes to Louis’, sadness eating through his soul.

“Go then,” he says hoarsely. “Have a great night.”

Louis stares at him for a moment, breathing harshly through his nose, then turns his back on Harry and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Harry collapses face first into his pillows, sobbing harshly. No one has ever made him feel as light with happiness as that boy, yet the opposite is also true. No one has ever hurt him quite so badly. No one has ever held his heart in the palm of their hand and crushed it in one foul swoop. No one, that is, except Louis.

*-*-*

Louis isn’t running away. It’s not fear driving him out of his own dorm room. It’s rejection. The sting of it burns his lungs now as he gulps down another shot. Then again that might just be the tequila. Either way, he ends up blind drunk before the night’s even halfway through. Luke doesn’t seem to mind, dancing up on him like he’s made it his mission to stick his skin to Louis’.

Maybe this is a date? Louis wonders, taking a small step back. As he does, he bumps into someone behind him, teetering slightly. Two large hands grip onto his hips tightly, steadying him from behind.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

Louis turns around, twisting in the stranger’s grip. He does a double take when he gets a glimpse at his saviour, who looks like something out of a winter catalogue. He’s tall, with eyes much bluer than Louis’ and wavy blonde hair. Wavy, not curly. It’s an important distinction. The man is well-dressed too, in tight white trousers and a collared shirt, sunglasses hooked inside the pocket of his very expensive shirt.

“Hello gorgeous,” he says, dragging out the first word.

“Hi,” Louis mumbles, eyes wide.

The guy doesn’t take his hands off of Louis after that, keeping him pinned to the spot. It’s bordering on inappropriate as is his sleazy smirk. It’s so unlike the way Harry looked at him earlier, soft and possessive all at once. Louis pulls Sleazy Model in by the shirt and kisses him deeply. He hears Luke grumble something behind him but he’s too busy drunkenly sucking face to care. Distantly he’s aware that this is just a band aid solution for all of his problems but his drunken, broken hearted self doesn’t care.

“You have a place?” Sleazy Model breathes in his ear.

It only takes Louis a beat to give his answer.

*-*-*

The good news is that Louis doesn’t bring Luke back to their dorm room. The bad news is that he does bring back some other guy, a guy by the name of “Sleazy Mmmm” if Louis’ high pitched moans are anything to go by. The room is too dark for Harry to get a good look at the guy but Harry’s more grateful than anything else. Seeing the guy who’s capable of making Louis moan like that would do nothing but exacerbate his pain.

The exchange between the two doesn’t last long. Louis is obviously too drunk for much more than sloppy kisses and clumsy handjobs. Sleazy Mmmm orgasms with a loud, unattractive grunt while Louis’ moans tail off into something like dissatisfied growls before eventually coming to a stop completely.

“Can’t.” He whispers, loud enough to be heard by Harry, on the other side of the room, a blanket barrier between them. “Can’t…you know.”

“Why not?” The guy sighs, sounding rather like he doesn’t care.

“Can’t cause…” He whimpers. “You’re all…wavy. I need curly.”

Harry can’t help but grin at that. He’s not quite sure it means anything, other than that Louis’ drunk and horny but it pleases him to pretend. Unfortunately for Louis, it seem his hook-up may have fallen asleep, that is if his drunken snores are anything to go by.

“Oh.” Louis says, sounding sulky and upset. “G’night then.”

It breaks Harry’s heart to hear him sound so lonely but not enough for him to do anything about it. Not when Louis’ brought this random guy back to their dorm and was clearly planning on sleeping with him while Harry was in the same room. Louis may be drunk as all hell but that doesn’t mean he’s not responsible for what’s happening right now.

Harry turns to face the wall and ignores the quiet sounds of Louis crying himself to sleep. If he doesn’t ignore him, he know he’ll end up going over there and trying to fix whatever’s wrong. He can’t do that anymore. He’s not Louis’ knight in shining armour and maybe he never was.

*-*-*  
Harry wakes up in the early hours of the morning, tangled in his sheets, his whole body shivering from the cold. The first light of dawn spills through the cracks in their blinds, shining directly onto his bed. However it’s not the piercing sunlight which woke him up, it’s Louis.

The object of Harry’s affection is currently yelling and crying out desperately, his whole face gone red from it. Tears drip down his cheeks as he tenses spasmodically against the sheets. The guy beside him is sitting bolt upright, glaring at Louis with nostrils flared. When Sleazy Mmm notices movement at the edge of his vision, he directs his glare straight at Harry.

“What’s wrong with him?” He barks.

Harry is incredulous.

“There’s _nothing_ wrong with him.” He hisses. “And keep your voice down, would you?”

“Keep my voice down?” The guy laughs, nodding his head at Louis. “Why don’t you tell that to your little disturbed friend here?”

“He’s not ‘disturbed.’” Harry spits. “He’s just having a nightmare.”

The guy laughs and none too quietly either. Harry wishes tackling him to the ground was an acceptable solution.

“You seriously call that a nightmare? Why don’t you just wake him up? I’ll do it if you can’t.”

“No!” Harry raises his voice, then instantly coves his mouth. “No you can’t.” He whispers. “Waking him up terrifies him.”

“So?” Jerkface smirks and leans down, about to grab Louis’ shoulder.

“If you do that, I will tell everybody on this campus that you can’t perform in bed. It’s not like I’d be lying, is it? You couldn’t even get him off.”

Jerkface snorts.

“What does it matter to me? I don’t even go here.”

“Oookay,” Harry drags his phone into his lap, deciding to call his bluff. “Group text, here we go.”

He pretends to type out a damaging message to all of his powerful, non-existent friends. In reality, he’s texting his mum to ask how she is.

“Wait!” Jerkface erupts. “Please. Don’t…don’t do that.”

“Will you stop trying to wake him?” Harry asks with a menacing glare. “You stop, I stop.”

“Fine!” Jerkface agrees. “I’ll just lay here until campus buses start.”

Harry gestures angrily at Louis, who looks about ten seconds away from tearing his shirt off. It’s not like it would be the first time. Last time he did it, Harry lied and said he must have shucked it off and thrown it somewhere in his sleep. With Louis’ mess strewn across the floor, it wasn’t hard to believe he could have misplaced it so easily. The next day Harry skipped class to go and buy a replacement. He even tore a hole in the bottom to match Louis’ and sprayed it with his deodorant. When the other boy found it lying beneath his bed that afternoon, he seemed to think nothing of it.

“You’re not even going to try and comfort him? He’s clearly in pain!”

“I can’t…” The guy looks like he’s sweating bullets. “He’s having a bloody fit!”

Harry can’t believe Louis chose to bring _this_ nitwit back to their room. He could have at least chosen someone with a little more substance. This guy’s pretty, he’ll give him that but c’mon, Louis is _so_ much prettier. He could do way better than this douche.

“He’s having a nightmare,” Harry corrects with a roll of his eyes, speaking slowly for the half-brained idiot in the room. “If you can’t handle that, you don’t deserve to be here.”

“What, you want me to go?” Nitwit blanches. “Now?”

Harry just blinks back at him, unfazed.

“If this is your best display of gentlemanly behaviour then yes, I want you to go. I think that rightfully, you should be here when he wakes up. He’s not a one night stand kind of person, unless he’s completely legless and I don’t want him to feel shitty about this. But you’re not even nearly good enough for him and you are that kind of guy, aren’t you? A one-time only kind of guy. And even if you weren’t…” He trails off, giving Nitwit a meaningful look.

Clearly, it’s not meaningful enough, judging by the confusion on his face.

“Even if I weren’t…what? You don’t think he’d date me?” He smirks, fluttering his non-existent eyelashes. “Mate, I’m a catch.”

“He probably would date you.” Harry agrees. “For a while. Until he’d realise what a dickhead you are or you’d break his heart. And honestly ‘mate’, he’s had enough heartbreak for one lifetime.”

“Oh I see.” Dickhead snickers. “You’re not trying to get rid of me for his sake, are you? It’s because you want him for yourself. I can understand that, mate. He’s got a nice arse on him, alright.”

He flashes his teeth at Harry in an absurdly sharklike smile. He looks like the kind of guy whose parents pay for monthly teeth whitening.

“Talk about him like that again, I dare you. I’d enjoy severing your most prized possession from your body and pinning it to your forehead. It would be very fitting, actually.” He grins. “People would be able to see how much of a cockhead you are from a mile away.”

Sleazy Mmm bears his teeth again, this time in an angry sneer. Harry doesn’t find it the least bit frightening. Not when he’s got this guy’s metaphorical balls in hand.

“How am I supposed to get back to my dorm? There are no buses this early.” Blondie hisses, seemingly accepting of his fate.

Harry walks his fingers across his palm, winking playfully at his dim-witted companion. “There’s this old-fashioned mode of transport, I think they call it…um, walking?”

“Fine.” Blondie agrees.

With that he stumbles his way to the door in just his pants, slamming it on his way out. The noise of it startles Louis who wakes up suddenly, breath catching in his chest. It takes Harry a full twenty minutes to calm him down and bring him back to himself.

“I—I had a bad dream.” He whispers, voice hoarse.

Nestled in Harry’s arms, he clings to him like a baby koala, gazing up at him with blatant fear.

“Did I make any noises?”

“No,” Harry lies. “Only when you woke up.”

“Oh.” Louis sighs with relief. “Good.”

He looks around then, suddenly noticing the trail of forgotten clothes. The room must seem conspicuously absent.

“Where’s….um….god, I can’t remember his name?” He bites at his lip, dragging it back and forth between his lips.

Impossibly distracting, this boy is.

“I think you called him....sleazy mmm?” Harry mimics one of his long, drawn out moans.

“Right.” Louis’ face flushes hot, twitching with agitation. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” Harry says, not a moment’s pause.

Louis looks shocked and resumes the biting of his lip, harder now too.

“It is?”

Harry pulls Louis’ lip from his teeth, gently thumbing away the soreness. Louis looks captivated by the touch, bright blue eyes glued to Harry’s thumb.

“It is.” He agrees. “So long as you stay with me. Don’t move out Lou, please.”

“Harry,” Louis says, eyes filled with torment.

Harry’s eyes blink closed, his body going limp with defeat. He jumps when Louis touches him, cradling his face in his hands and resting his cheek against Harry’s.

“I don’t want to room with anyone else but you.” Louis whispers, voice just carrying to Harry’s ear. “I’m sorry I ever said I did.”

Harry clutches him tight with joy, dragging him further into his lap and nuzzling his shoulder in earnest.

“You didn’t answer my question before.” Louis pinches his side. “Where is watshisname?”

Harry coughs and turns his face even further away. Louis drags him back by the chin.

“Harry, tell me the truth.” He looks crestfallen. “Everything I did last night, it was an impulse A bad one, I know. I didn’t really like him but I…I thought he’d at least stay the course of the night.”

“He did,” Harry murmurs, butting his head against Louis’, the same way Louis sometimes does with Moo. “He just had to leave early. Swim practice, I think.”

Louis’ expression is sceptical. He pinches Harry again.

“You’re lying to me. He left because he didn’t want another go. I wasn’t good, was I?” He looks up at Harry like the answer to that question lies with him.

“You were good.” Harry implores, voice pained. “He…enjoyed himself, really.”

Louis looks away, bottom lip drooping low.

“Really?” He crosses his arms. “Then why isn’t he here? Why aren’t I _that_ good? Why am I never that good? I’m not the one people stick around for, I never have been.”

“That’s not true,” Harry croons, nuzzling his cheek. “He was a douche, okay? If I had my way, I’d nail a penis to his forehead.”

Louis gives him a weird look then cracks up laughing immediately.

“You’d what?! Oh my god Harold, what’s wrong with you?!”

 _Love_ , Harry thinks gloomily, _unrequited love_. He pushes that thought to the back of his mind because Louis is laughing now and that’s all that matters. If he can put a smile on this boy’s face from time to time, that should be enough. Right?

“Hold me?” Louis asks tentatively. “Or is that, um… is it too much?”

“Never,” Harry promises swiftly. “I’m sorry I ever made you think it was.”

He clutches Louis in his arms and pulls them both back against the pillows, settling the covers around them. Louis turns on his side, facing away from him. He lets Harry embrace him from behind, Harry burying his nose in his hair.

“I felt you sniff my hair just now.” Louis accuses, a sweet smile in his voice.

Harry squeezes the boy entrapped in his arms, chest filling with a special kind of warmth.

“I was just imitating Moo.”

Louis laughs, disbelieving.

“Are you trying to tell me you were scenting me?” He giggles.

Moo, with impeccable timing, jumps onto the bed next to them. He stalks up the covers with a disgruntled mewl, then curls up underneath Louis’ chin. His favourite spot.

“Yes.” Harry says solemnly. “But I don’t think I should. Moo seems jealous.”

“He does like to stake his claim over me.”

“That’s fine,” Harry nods against his hair. “I don’t need to prove that you’re mine.”

“Yours?” Louis says with a weird high note in his voice.

“Mine. You know, my…friend.” Harry finishes lamely.

Louis speaks as though he didn’t hear him, dragging Harry’s hand up his naked chest until warm fingers meet cold metal.

“Yours.”

The paper plane is unmistakable and aside from his pants, the necklace is all Louis is wearing. Harry squeezes it in his fist, knuckles grazing Louis’ chest. After a long quite moment he lets go, splaying his hand out against Louis’ pec instead, feeling the thrum of his rapid pulse. The longer he holds Louis, the slower his pulse gets, until eventually his breaths even out with sleep.

“I love you.” Harry murmurs, knowing his confession falls on deaf ears. Drifting off, his sentences turn nonsensical. “You’re my sweet creature.”

*-*-*

When Louis wakes up for the second time, the sun is almost blinding but Harry has him pressed to his chest and it feels so good, Louis doesn’t want to wake him.

“You awake now?” Harry suddenly whispers, startling him slightly.

“Yeah. Didn’t know you were though.” Louis fingers the paper plane hanging from his neck. “What have you been doing?”

“Just thinking,” Harry says thoughtfully.

“About?”

Harry presses his face into Louis’ neck, squeezing him tight.

“About how I’d love it if you’d spend the day with me.”

“I have class,” Louis laughs, catching Harry’s fingers as they crawl across his chest.

“So?” He can hear the smirk in Harry’s voice. “It’s not as if you haven’t skipped before.”

Louis tugs Harry’s hand up to his lips, taking his pointer finger between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” Harry giggles.

“Punishing you for bringing up past misdemeanours. _Obviously._ ”

Harry pulls his hand away, chuckling.

“You’re such a child sometimes.”

He shrugs.

“Can’t argue that.”

“So…” Harry squeezes his hip. “Will you be spending the day with me or not?”

Louis swivels his body around to face him, poking his dimple just to make him laugh.

“I suppose.” He feigns annoyance, pointing a finger at Harry’s face. “But only if you buy me breakfast.”

Harry grabs hold of his finger, nibbling on it the same way Louis had his. It should probably faze Louis. It surely would have a couple of days prior. Yet something about this feels entirely natural. Like maybe this is how things are meant to be between them. Maybe they really are just platonic pals who nibble on each other’s fingers. Maybe not. All he knows is that he wouldn’t change anything about it. Not now and maybe not ever.

“Fine,” Harry begrudgingly agrees, grinning from ear to ear. “I suppose I can swing that.”

Louis pats his cheek, beaming brightly.

“My hero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any of you completely underwhelmed by their first kiss, stay tuned :D  
> and also bc the next chapter is a big one (incidentally it's my absolute favourite too).
> 
> Thanks for reading. Come tell me your thoughts!
> 
> p.s I love the idea of Hot Luke so much I couldn't make him the bad guy hahah


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we left off: Harry and Louis were about to spend the day together.   
> Where we're going: Prepare yourself for some cute fluffiness followed by...well, pretty much the exact opposite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally these last three chapters were one big chapter but I decided to separate it into three because I think it really affects the momentum of the story and I like how much more dramatic it seems! Thanks Kym for giving me this idea :D Oh and sorry for constantly changing the chapter count but I promise it won't be any more than 10, including the epilogue :)
> 
> Also, I've included the names of songs that were playing in my head as I wrote certain scenes :)

A full English breakfast and a hot cup of tea is a good way to start the day. It’s even better when he’s sat beside Harry who keeps swiping milk across Louis’ upper lip and giggling at the picture he makes.

“And you call me a child,” Louis says with a superior arch of his brows.

Harry’s giggles come to a sudden stop as he traces the curve of Louis’ brow.

“W—what are you doing?” Louis stutters, splashing half his tea onto his jeans.

Harry gazes at him fondly, gently reaching over to take the tea out of his hands.

“Nothing. You just have really expressive eyebrows.”

Louis reaches a hand out and thumbs at the corner of Harry’s eye.

“I think the same about your eyes, you know.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

Harry smiles at him for a moment, then resumes eating with his dimples etched firmly in place. Louis’ mouth kicks up at the thought that _he_ put that dopey smile on Harry’s face. They eat in silence for the rest of breakfast but Harry’s hand finds his thigh beneath the table. Louis threads his bare ankles through Harry’s jean clad legs, swinging their conjoined limbs back and forth. Louis’ never found silence so comforting.

*-*-*

After breakfast, Harry takes him to the Natural History Museum which is as amusing as it is fascinating. It’s amusing because Harry knows the name and story behind almost every exhibit in there.

“You really are a big history geek,” Louis giggles, watching Harry recite _another_ info card from memory.

“Natural history is my favourite.” Harry confesses, a pretty blush filling his cheeks. “It combines my two favourite things.”

Louis feigns his shock.

“I thought I was your favourite thing.”

Harry ruffles Louis’ hair with an attractive smirk.

“Lou, you’re not my favourite _thing_. You’re my favourite person.”

Louis’ heartbeat feels very unsteady inside his chest and he’s not quite able to hide just how much Harry’s words mean to him.

“Well,” he clears his throat, playing with the paper plane below his throat. “You did give me your favourite necklace.”

Harry tugs at the necklace, drawing Louis in and lowering his voice slightly.

“Yeah, well.” He swallows. “It looks pretty fetching on you.”

“Fetching?” Louis pushes him in the stomach, rolling his eyes. “Nobody says _fetching_ anymore, Harold.”

“Fine.” He gives the paper aeroplane another tug. “You look _stunning._ I’ve never seen a man make jewellery look quite as good as you.”

Louis inhales a big rush of air that wants to make itself known in an embarrassingly obvious sigh. Instead he turns his back on Harry, walking in the direction of the next exhibit.

“Thank you, Harold,” he says quietly. “But you wear your rings very well.”

When Louis looks back to see if Harry’s following him, he finds him positively glowing.

“C’mon curly,” Louis beckons. “I’m starting to get hungry and I know you’ve got a million other things to bore me with before we eat.”

He’s not bored in the slightest but Harry doesn’t have to know that. Harry hurries after him, huffing and puffing.

“How can you be hungry already? We ate a couple of hours ago.”

Louis spares him a baleful look.

“Exactly Harold, exactly.”

*-*-*

They mosey on down to the first floor of the museum for lunch. Reason being? Louis tells Harry he’s too starved to make it to a whole new location. Harry dismisses his reasoning with a snort but he still buys Louis’ lunch.

“This is so good,” Louis moans into his souvlaki.

Harry looks disproportionately pleased, as though he made the damn thing himself.

“Good. I think you deserve to be spoiled Lou, I want to spoil you today.”

Louis pauses, souvlaki halfway to his mouth.

“You are. You’re spoiling me with your company Harold.”

Harry catches hold of his ankle beneath the table, eyes twinkling.

“So, the museum was obviously for me but what we’re doing after lunch is one hundred percent for you.”

“Okay...” Louis narrows his eyes at Harry, trying to judge his expression. “This isn’t one of those things where you make me think it’s something good and then you throw pigs blood at me in front of everyone I know, is it?”

“Jesus.” Harry laughs, swinging their feet. “You have been burned, haven’t you, Carrie?”

Louis bites his lip, fighting off a wince.

“Once or twice, yeah.”

Harry’s expression instantly softens.

“Then no, it’s nothing like that. It’s a good surprise, I hope.”

Louis smiles.

“I’m sure I’ll love it Haz.”

*-*-*

_Adele – Chasing Pavements_

Louis looks around the room for clues. After a couple of moments, he’s still coming up empty.

“It’s a pub?” He levels Harry with a sceptical look. “Are you trying to tell me you think I’m an alcoholic?

Harry shakes his head, chuckling to himself as he guides Louis forward, a hand spanning the width of his lower back. He directs Louis to one of the poorly lit tables in the back, illuminated only by a droopy white candle, flickering as if about to go out. The pub is a ramshackle joint, mostly hidden from view. It appears to be a slightly grimy hideaway for lone drinkers. In spite of that, there’s a surprisingly romantic air about it. It might be the fire burning in the grate, a few feet away. It might just as easily be the candlelit tables sequestered away in the back.

“It’s not just a pub.” Harry promises him lowly. “They serve the best greasy chips in London.”

“But you hate unnecessary grease?” Louis says, crinkling his eyebrows.

Harry reaches over to touch them again, a whimsical smile gracing his lips.

“I do.” He nods. “But you love it.”

Louis’ stomach flips over a few times, demonstrating some serious acrobatic skill.

“I…thank you.” He manages. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You came to the museum with me,” Harry smiles back. “It’s the least I could do.”

“I _like_ the museum,” Louis admits. “It’s interesting.”

“You do?”

Harry looks absolutely thrilled. His translucent eyes look like emerald paint drops leeching into a blank canvas. Louis sits there, transfixed. He doesn’t miss the way Harry’s shining gaze falls to his lips, burning just as intensely as the fire in the grate. For a moment, it feels like Harry just might pull him in by the shirt and kiss him until the candle goes out. Louis finds that his throat has gone tight with longing, his fingernails leaving half-moon crescents in his thighs. But a moment later Harry’s gaze flickers away and the acrid taste of disappointment fills Louis’ mouth.

“I did.” Louis agrees, somewhat belatedly.

“I’ll go order us some food,” Harry tells him.

Louis pats his stomach, frowning softly.

“I’m going to be the size of the house by the time this day is done.”

Harry pinches his side on the way up, eliciting a shocked little gasp.

“I’ll roll you home if I have to.”

Louis slaps his thigh in retaliation.

*-*-*

Half an hour later, he moans at his first taste of the best greasy chips in London. They are good. He has to agree with Harry on that but when he tells him so, Harry just smirks and reaches into the dorky backpack he’s been carrying around all day.

“Bread?” Louis eyes the zip lock bag in his hand. “Wassat for?”

“For chip sandwiches, obviously.”

Louis screws up his face.

“Harry Styles, you did not just say that. You want me to eat chips… _in bread_?”

Harry chuckles, eyeing him fondly. There’s been a lot of that today. Louis can’t say he minds much.

“It’s not that weird. Honestly, it tastes good.”

Louis hits him with an unimpressed glare.

“You think kale tastes good. Therefore, you aren’t much of an authority on what tastes good.”

“Kale does taste good,” Harry growls, cutely. He’s a very cute growler. “But that’s not the point. The point is I brought you here specifically for this reason. Because I know you love greasy chips and I know you’ll love greasy chip sandwiches even more.”

He’s pouting now which is basically your best form of intimidation if your name is Harry Styles.

“Fine,” Louis sighs, nudging his chips in Harry’s direction. “Lay it on me.”

Harry does an embarrassing fist pump and begins layering Louis’ bread with chips. When he closes the sandwich, they begin to ooze out the sides.

“Do I really have to eat it Haz?” Louis pleads, trying out the pouting for himself.

Apparently it’s not as effective when he’s doing it. Harry just chuckles and takes a huge bite out of his own sandwich.

“C’mon Lou,” he says, swallowing noisily. Louis wouldn’t mind seeing him do that again. “Don’t be so boring.”

It’s that which convinces Louis to take his first little bite, glaring at Harry throughout. It’s messy is the thing, trying to juggle the heavy sandwich while it drips oil all over his fingers. Not to mention the fact that he can barely get his mouth around it without suffering lockjaw. Which means nothing. Eating a chip sandwich does not give any indication of what you’re like in bed. Louis is good at blowjobs. He’s never had any complaints.

“So?” Harry says, watching him chew with a surprising amount of intensity. If Louis didn’t know better, he’d think the guy had an oral fixation. “Do you like it or not?”

Louis tries to subtly wipe the crumbs from around his mouth, having thoroughly enjoyed his first bite. Far from being soggy and bland, the chip-bread combo is surprisingly tasty. It’s something he would eat again but only with this boy right here. This boy who reaches over and thumbs at the corner of Louis’ mouth, rubbing away the last of his crumbs.

“Thanks,” Louis says, bowing his head forward. “I loved it.”

Louis doesn’t even have to look at him to know Harry’s fist pumping the air again. This kid is a total dork.

“I knew it,” he cheers. “I knew you’d love it.”

“Good for you,” Louis says, picking up his sandwich. “Now shut up and let me finish it.”

Harry winks.

“Yes sir!”

*-*-*

_Adele- Make You Feel My Love_

_It’s_ early evening now and the candle burning over their table has almost burnt out. Harry’s hand has made its way back on to Louis’ thigh, squeezing his leg every so often. They discuss the merits of living in London as opposed to LA and after some careful consideration both agree that London is the place to be.

It’s a simple conversation to be having, one without the nostalgia of shared memories or the excitement of an antagonistic debate. It’s a neutral conversation, devoid of the push and pull you get with multiple friends competing to be heard. With Harry, there is no competition. Any time their voices interfere, Harry pulls back. His voice falls silent of its own accord. He’d prefer to listen to Louis than fight him for control of the conversation.

It’s not because he’s not capable either. They’ve had many a spirited debate before. It’s because he genuinely enjoys hearing what Louis has to say. Or at least that’s how it appears. Every time Louis opens his mouth, Harry gets this deeply contented look in his eyes that just can’t be explained any other way. It’s focused, because he’s listening to every word but somewhat dreamy too. As if the sound of Louis’ voice somehow relaxes him. Talking to someone who looks at him like that is the best thing Louis’ ever felt.

“So,” Harry squeezes him again. “there’s another reason I brought you here.”

“Oh?”

“Every evening they have performances from people in off the street.”

Louis crinkles his nose confusedly.

“Like…homeless people?”

“No,” Harry giggles, “I just meant regular people who aren’t trained performers. They let them do dedications.”

“Okay…” Louis says, not following.

Harry grins.

“Well I know how much you love music. Obviously,” he nudges one of Louis’ white vans, covered in lyrics. “And I know how much you love being serenaded. In public.”

Louis’ eyes go wide, his hands gripping the table with panic.

“Harry, no!”

“So I organised a little something…” He’s grinning like the bloody Cheshire cat now.

“Harry,” Louis squeals. “I don’t want some random person serenading me!”

“Random person?” Harry’s nose twitches, scrunching up with amusement. “I’m not going to let some random person do it, Louis. _I’m_ going to serenade you.”

“You are?” Louis’ face feels absurdly hot.

“Yeah,” Harry stands up, giving his thigh one last affectionate squeeze. “Wait here okay? Don’t run away.”

“I won’t.” Louis promises, chewing on the edge of his mouth. “I want to hear your voice.”

Harry cups his cheek, rubbing his thumb over Louis’ heated skin.

“Good.” He says, voice a little rough. “Because I learned this just for you.”

With that, he turns on his heel and struts up to the stage, hips swaying. He looks so handsome, dressed in a snug white Henley and tight black jeans. When he jumps up onto the stage, the conversations around them cease. A guy dressed in all black hands him a guitar and Harry slings it across his chest with practised ease. It’s really freaking hot. So hot, it just might be the sexiest thing Louis’ ever seen him do. Harry rakes his fingers through his curls and then licks the side of his thumb, dragging it down over his lips for god knows what reason. No, _that_. That is the sexiest thing Louis’ ever seen him do.

A microphone stand lands in front of him. Harry looks far too confident to have ever said to Louis that this was just a hobby. He looks like a true rockstar, standing there all covered in chunky jewellery with his stringy, slightly sweat damp curls forming curtains along the sides of his face. Louis finds himself eagerly anticipating the moment he starts singing and thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long. Harry taps on the microphone, testing it out, then gently calls the pub to attention.

“Hi everyone.” He says with that typical slow drawl. “’m Harry Styles and this is my dedication. It’s for my friend, the boy in the back of the room.”

He points his finger straight at Louis who laughs awkwardly and tries to ignore all the pairs of eyes on him right now. Strangely enough, despite hating the fact that people are looking at him, Louis is inexplicably pleased. He’s proud to be The Boy in The Back of The Room. Or more precisely, Harry’s Boy in The Back of The Room.

“He’s blushing madly right now, I’m sure. He does that a lot around me, m’ afraid.” He winks at Louis, that smug, smarmy bastard. “But I must do this and I must do it now. Thanks for listening. This is for my favourite person in the world. This is a cover by Sleeping At Last. This is I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles).”

Louis is struck breathless with that first line he knows oh so well.

 _When I wake up, well, I know I’m gonna be. I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you_. But he’s wiping away tears by the first chorus. _But I would walk five hundred miles and I would walk five hundred more just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door._ Some of the lines, Harry positively croons. _When I come home, oh I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who comes back home to you._ Other ones, he whispers like a tender caress. As if he’s right there in front of Louis, singing to him, cupping his face and stroking his delicate cheekbones. Like the two of them are the only two people in this room.  Like they’re the only two people on earth. “ _When I’m lonely, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who’s lonely without you.”_

It has Louis hiccupping like it’s the end of the world and not the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for him. Which it is, without question. The absolute kindest, loveliest gesture anyone’s ever made for him and of course it had to be Harry who made it. Harry, who looks like he’s singing his damn heart out up there. It might not be his song but when he sings it, those lyrics are _his._ He possesses them, making the words bleed more meaning than anything the writer could have possibly intended.

When he finishes, the pub bursts into loud appreciative applause. Rightly so. Louis rubs at his reddened eyes. Sniffling a little, he jumps up and joins in just as enthusiastically. If not more so. That’s his favourite boy up there, after all. Harry slowly makes his way back to him, constantly having to stop and engage in conversation with pubgoers, turned avid fans.

“I knew you were a rockstar,” Louis accuses. “You were sensational Haz.”

Harry glows, reaching out to trace Louis’ tear trails with open mouthed shock.

“I made you cry?”

“Kinda,” Louis squeezes his forearm. “You kind of made my whole freaking year though so....”

“So I’m forgiven?” Harry laughs, pressing his thumbs to Louis’ cheeks.

Louis cocks his head.

“I’ll think about it rockstar.”

Harry’s laugh is so loud, he has to cover his mouth with his palms.

“If you didn’t serenade me just now, I’d be telling you how embarrassing you are.”

Harry tugs him in by their necklace which seems to be becoming a bit of a thing.

“Yeah, yeah,” He grins wolfishly. “Now are you going to give me a hug or what?”

Louis does. Only because he wants to dry the rest of his tears on Harry’s top and not because he wants to be close to him.

That would be embarrassing.

*-*-*

“This is our last stop for the day.” Harry promises, pulling the car into a vacant lot.

They’ve been driving for a while, the sun slowly setting behind them. If the look on Louis’ face is anything to go by, he has no idea where they are.

“It better be.” He huffs, overdoing the theatrics. “I’m bloody exhausted.”

Harry finds him adorable to say the least.

“Good thing we don’t have much of a walk then,” He muses.

Louis looks horrified and hangs his head back against the seat.

“We have to walk? Really?”

“It’s worth it, I promise.” He squeezes Louis’ arm. “It’s just a small hill.”

“A hill, Styles? Really?”

“Stop,” Harry chuckles, “it won’t be that bad.”

Louis grumbles while making a valiant attempt at getting out of the car on his own. Valiant, but unsuccessful. Harry has to come around and help him when he slumps against the edge of the car seat, fatigued. Harry drags him up by the underarms and hugs him tightly. With one arm around Louis, he reaches down with the other. He grabs his fluffy jacket from the car and drapes Louis in it, staring him down until he grudgingly pushes his arms through the sleeves. It hangs over the edges of his fingertips, swallowing the rest of him completely. Harry does the zip up and pulls the fur lined hood over Louis’ head.

“I look like a marshmallow, don’t I?” Louis sighs, nose already tinted pink from the cold.

His eyes are bluer than the evening sky, the sun having just set behind them. He looks like a snow angel, puffy attire and all.

“A little bit,” Harry concedes, chuckling gently, “But it’s working for you.”

Louis bites at the edge of his mouth, pushing him away playfully.

“Shut up. You’re just saying that because you want me to come up the hill with you.”

“Will you pretty please come up the hill with me?” Harry bats his eyelashes.

Louis huffs a little more but concedes defeat. He settles the score by making Harry sing to him the whole way up.

“It’s not fair that I’ve never heard you properly sing.” He claims. “We’ve know each other eight months.”

“Only eight months?” Harry squints at him. “It feels like I’ve aged ten years.”

Louis jabs him in the side and Harry moans a bit. But when they reach the top of the hill and Louis sees what’s before him, it’s worth it. The look on his face makes this whole entire day worth it…

*-*-*

_Berlin – Take My Breath Away_

Louis never knew Harry was such a damn romantic. Or maybe he did and he just completely ignored the fact because it made him so uneasy. It made Harry seem even more irresistible and he obviously couldn’t handle that at the time. Not without avoiding thinking about it completely. Looking out at the incredible view in front of him, it occurs to Louis that today has been one hell of a first date. Because if Louis were to describe his ideal date, it would be something very close to this. A day spent exploring each other’s hobbies and making each other laugh in between good food and even better conversation. Now they’re standing at the top of a huge hill (so much for that short walk) and all of London is spread out before them, just starting to light up brilliantly beneath the darkness.

“This is incredible.” Louis’ breathes out his nose, trying to take all of it in. “I can see almost all of London from here.”

It’s crazy. Crazy that it’s here in front of this view, on this very night that he realises he doesn’t just love spending time with Harry. He doesn’t just love who harry is or how he makes him feel. He’s _in love_ with Harry. It’s a wonder that he realises this now, on this night and not any of the hundreds of perfect nights that came before. He’s in love with every version of this boy, from the history buff to the wildly talented performer he glimpsed earlier. From the smirking sex god to the dorky roommate he swore he’d never let himself fall for. Yet fallen he has, for the boy who thinks Louis deserves to be spoiled, for this boy who remains completely unaware of everything going on inside him right now.

How pitiful it is to realise this now when it’s probably much too late. The damage has already been done. He kissed Harry, not because he was sleepy or driven by the need to thank him for his tea but because deep down, that is what his soul craved. Simple as that. Or at least it could have been. It would have been if he hadn’t been one step behind his desires, trying unsuccessfully to drown them in denial.

“Yeah,” Harry’s smiling at him curiously now, as if he can see how hard Louis’ thinking. “I come up here every now and again to think.”

 _About me_? Louis wants to ask but knows it’s not his place. There’s a strong possibility Harry did feel something for him, something akin to whatever’s crawling all over Louis’ skin right now. If today’s date-like adventure is anything to go by, there’s a possibility he still does. It should be liberating. Especially because the whole “no dating gorgeous roommates” thing is well and truly in Louis’ past.

It terrifies him, the thought of being used and then tossed aside by someone he has to make eye contact with every day. But Harry is no heartbreaker and a boy who serenades you and looks after you the way Harry has him is most definitely worth the risk.

Nevertheless, it’s mortifying that it took Louis so long to realise it. To tell Harry how he feels now would be strangely cruel. After everything that’s happened between them the past few days, it doesn’t feel like the right time to churn things up all over again. Besides, Harry knows nothing of his past. Until Louis has the courage to tell him, there is no future for them.

“Oh yeah?” Louis crooks an eyebrow at him. “So we’re just going to sit up here and think, then?”

“No,” Harry smirks at him. “I’ve got one final surprise left.”

He holds out his hand to Louis, those starry green eyes like something out of a rom com. He’s a twinkly person, Harry Styles. He twinkles at people all the time.

Louis takes his hand and follows him over to the other side of the hill, closer to the jaw dropping view. He wonders how he didn’t notice the shiny black car sitting there before, but then the view is quite spectacular. The back of this car is completely open and facing the view. It’s decorated with these little twinkly lights that Louis’ always loved because they remind him of Christmases spent with his family. All those years he spent decorating the tree, hoisting his little sisters up so they could place the angel at the top. He smiles at the thought of it, his gaze patiently passing over the cushions and warm blankets lining the floor of the car, a picnic basket hidden away in the corner. It looks like one hell of a setup.

“Who the hell owns this car?”

Foot in mouth disease is a terrible burden.

“I decorated this _whole_ car for you with twinkly lights because I know how much you love them…and that’s it? That’s your response?” Harry rolls his eyes. “You’re the biggest brat.”

“No, no I’m sorry.” Louis whines, taking hold of his hand. “It’s perfect Harry, really. I’m just…overwhelmed.”

Harry strokes his thumb where it’s wrapped around his palm. The touch sends tingles up Louis’ spine and well, that’s new. It always felt nice before but this excited fizzle in his veins, this warmth that radiates out through his entire body?  That’s an entirely new sensation.

“Really?” Harry looks stoked, watching him closely for clues.

Louis gives him what he wants for once. He doesn’t try to hide his emotions. He knows they’re painted all over his face anyway. In the slow sweep of his eyelashes across his cheeks and the glossy sheen of his eyes. He’s had his breath taken away many times before but not like this. Never like this. It takes him a moment to realise there’s a reason why. The reason being that he’s never know anyone like this, let alone loved them. He’s never known someone as wonderful as Harry.

“This whole day…” Louis shakes his head, voice croaky. He tries again, “this whole day has been crazy good. You know because in some ways, it was nothing special, just the two of us hanging out but in others…”

“In others?” Harry prompts, a smile edging its way onto his face.

“In others…” he gestures at the view, lights blinking on all around them. “You completely blow my mind. I mean, twinkly lights? C’mon! I must have mentioned that like once, in a stupid story about Christmas with my family.”

“It was three months ago.” Harry recalls, glowing as if someone shone a light right through his eyes. “You told me that your favourite Christmas was the first one after Doris and Ernie were born. You were just happy to have babies in the room again. You were wearing your new socks you got from your mum and Lottie was telling you all about her boyfriend of the time, Wes. You had a baby in each arm and for the first time in a long time you felt like everyone in your life was really, genuinely happy.”

“How?” Louis feels his shoulders start to shake, his breath escaping him in short gasps. “Harry, how the fuck do you do that?”

Harry looks a bit taken aback and quite obviously confused.

“Do what, Lou?”

He grabs Louis by the elbows, guiding him down onto the pillow fort in the car. Louis lays down. Dragging Harry with him, he huddles into his chest. His shoulders continue to shake but he musters up the courage to say the only words he needs to say.

“You make me feel like I’m the most important person in every single room.”

“You are.” Harry implores, running his hand down over Louis’ back. “You are the most important person to me. _Always_.”

Fuck if that doesn’t tell him all he needs to know. Even if Harry doesn’t feel the same way, he clearly cares about Louis more than he ever realised. So long as that doesn’t change, Louis can handle the rest. He can handle having unrequited feelings. He can handle almost anything with this boy by his side.

They lie there for a while, until the sky is completely dark above them and Harry forces him to turn over and look. It’s even more stunning now than it was before, the whole city lit up as beautifully as the twinkly lights above them. They sit at the edge of the car, dangling their feet over their edge, watching the lights in the very centre of the city change colour.

“You never answered me,” Louis mumbles, resting his cheek on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry pulls him into his side, running his hand up and down Louis’ arm to try and keep him warm.

“Answered you about what?”

“The car,” Louis makes eye contact with him, head still resting on Harry’s shoulder.

It’s probably the most intimate way to share space with someone but Harry doesn’t ask him to move. He just stares directly into Louis’ eyes, not seeming even the slightest bit tempted to look away.

“Oh.” Harry’s chuckle is gruff, like he’s got something caught in the back of his throat. “It’s Zayn’s. He lent it to us for the night. He was the one who set it up for me too. All I did was give him my specifications and the boys minded it for us until just before we got here. Not that anybody really knows about this spot. It’s one of London’s greatest undiscovered lookouts and I intend to keep it that way.”

“Good,” Louis smiles serenely. “It’s so peaceful here.”

“I thought you’d like it. Sleeping under the stars is kind of a treat for me. I hate being all cooped up indoors.”

Louis narrows his eyes thoughtfully.

“Does this bear any relation to your unwillingness to wear clothes?”

“I wear clothes!” Harry protests with a laugh, jostling Louis on his shoulder.

“Not if you don’t have to.”

“Well…” He giggles. “Why would anyone wear clothes if they don’t have to?”

“You would say that.” Louis huffs. “You could be a Calvin Klein model or something.”

Harry doesn’t even react to the compliment, too busy frowning at what’s been left unsaid.

“You really don’t know how beautiful you are, do you?”

“Harry.” Louis rolls his eyes, launching himself over the lip of the boot.

He walks over to the edge of the hill, searching the city for the kind of answer it won’t provide _._

 _Why am I like this?_ It’s something he’s been asking himself all his life. Harry steps up behind him, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist.

“The first time I saw you I could hardly breathe. That’s the honest to god truth.”

Louis chuckles.

“That’s probably because I was sitting on your _chest_. Straddling someone probably isn’t the best first impression to make.”

“No,” Harry’s voice is far more serious. “That wasn’t the first time I saw you. The first time I saw you was when I woke up in the middle of the night and you were asleep in the bed beside me. I looked over and I could not catch my breath.”

“Maybe you have asthma,” Louis jokes.

“Louis,” Harry’s voice is sharp. “I’m not kidding. Maybe my opinion doesn’t mean that much to you. Or maybe…maybe it would mean _more_ coming from someone else but I want you to know, you are beautiful. I think you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Louis whispers, throat working.

“Oh and personally, I think you should walk around naked all the time.”

Louis shakes with laughter, elbowing Harry in the stomach.

“And here I was thinking you were being so sweet.”

“I was,” Harry turns him around to face him. He looks devilishly handsome, a dirty smirk working around the corners of his lips. “Hey, maybe you could repay the favour by becoming a full-time nudist.”

“Harry!” Louis smacks him in the arm, grinning in spite of himself.

It’s good to see that they can still joke about this stuff without it getting weird. Harry takes him back to the car for dinner which consists of a couple of cold sandwiches and a bottle of red wine. Harry teases him about his reddened teeth so Louis makes a show of slowly licking them clean. That’s how one of Zayn’s cream coloured cushions winds up with a very dark red wine stain. Courtesy of a very pink faced Harry Styles.

After that, they lay down and talk for a while, snuggled up beneath piles upon piles of blankets. Louis keeps sniffing the hood of Harry’s jacket because it smells exactly like his shampoo. The kind that Louis likes to steal whenever Harry’s not around. Harry catches him inhaling it more than once but just looks away smiling, rather than pointing it out. Louis is more than grateful.

Eventually their voices tire and the warmth of the blankets is enough to lull them to sleep, Louis cuddled inside Harry’s arms. The hatch of the car is still open but there’s no one around for miles. With Harry’s arms locked around him like a vice, Louis feels safe and calm. The exhaustion of today weighs him down like a brick. Realising you’re in love with your best friend will do that to you. Louis’ out like a light before he can think about it any further.

*-*-*

_Sia – Breathe Me_

Louis wakes up gasping, tears that are still warm dripping down off his chin and fingers that tremble like they’ve caught the wind. His feet lay tangled in one of the blankets they chose not to use and his hands are sore, presumably from clenching them into fists. Surprisingly, his throat doesn’t feel hoarse which means he wasn’t screaming or shouting like he usually does. He knows there was screaming though, he knows he was screaming in the nightmare he was having. He knows this, because he always is. He knows this, because the nightmare is all too real for him. Though the nightmares have come and gone over the past eight months, he’s never woken up in this state. He’s never had any episodes like he used to. It’s what’s kept him so positive while he’s been at uni, aside from Harry’s friendship. He’s never felt like he was slipping. Until now.

Panic grips him by the throat. He briefly considers what this means for his future at uni. His future with Harry. How can he sleep in a room with _anyone_ else, let alone share a bed with the boy he loves, if this is how it’s going to be every night?

Louis’ tears are warm against his cold cheeks. His chest inflates too quickly under the weight of his laboured breaths. In a moment of insanity and a state of urgent need, he shakes Harry’s shoulder.

“Harry,” he whispers, a quiet sob breaking through. “Wake up. I’ve had a bad dream.”

It’s so much more than that and there’s going to be so much to explain. The thought paralyses him with fear but Louis’ need is almost a compulsion at this point. If he’s going to tell Harry the truth, it’s now or never and he knows it has to be now. He shakes Harry again, struggling to breathe.

“Please wake up. I’m scared H. I had the worst nightmare.”

Harry doesn’t wake, not really. His eyes stay closed but he grips Louis by the wrist, slurring out a response.

“I know Lou. You always do. Just go back to sleep baby.”

Louis pulls his wrist away slowly, watching Harry for any signs of waking. There are none. He stays asleep.

Louis sits there for a moment, shaking like a leaf. Harry’s words are sweet but his whole body goes cold at the implication behind it. He grabs the paper plane and holds onto it tightly. Shedding Harry’s puffy jacket, he lays the necklace inside. Ever so quietly, he exits the car, stumbling out into the darkness. Confusion and humiliation burns his chest. He can breathe now. He’s just not so sure he wants to.

*-*-*

When Harry wakes up, he notices immediately that Louis is gone.

“Louis?” He mumbles, reaching out for him, to no avail. He rolls over waiting to feel a warm body beside him. “Lou?”

His hand meets something soft. It’s the jacket he leant to Louis last night. He smiles, remembering Louis not so covertly sniffing the hood.

“Morning Lou.”

Harry opens his eyes only to find a shockingly empty car. The jacket is flat beneath his hand. When he picks it up and drapes it over his arm, something silver slinks to the floor. It’s the paper aeroplane necklace. The one he gave Louis. A terrible feeling grips Harry’s throat and he scrambles his way out the back of the car and into the fresh air beyond.

 _Louis._ Harry stands there shaking from head to toe, knowing he’s never felt this scared to find himself alone in his life. _Where the hell is Louis?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? How much do you hate me right now? ;) 
> 
> Don't worry, the next chapter will be up tomorrow at the VERY latest <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The BIG one!!!!
> 
> WARNING: Heavy themes including violence, blood/gore, a panic attack, mentions of PTSD and the deaths of some minor characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the most grueling chapter to write and the most rewarding. I put 100% of my soul into this. I lived this chapter like it was real.
> 
> Prepare yourself for some major feels x

Harry is ready to shout. He’s ready to go running off into the trees around them, looking for Louis, leaving everything he owns behind. But then, he sees him. He sees Louis. Perched on the edge of the hill in just a t-shirt and jeans with his little feet dangling over the edge. His posture looks too stiff, his body too still. Harry gets the distinct feeling Louis’ just been waiting for him to wake up. He knows instantly that something is wrong.

He wanders over, jacket slung over his arm, necklace clutched in his other hand. Nerves overtake as he gets closer. The coward inside him reconsiders the decision to confront this head on. The more hopeful side of him says, whatever it is, they can fix it. Last night Louis looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars. How much could have changed in the hours that he slept?

“Jesus Louis, you scared the crap out of me.” Harry grumbles, draping the jacket around Louis’ shoulders. “Put this on, you’ll catch your death sitting out here like that.”

“I’m not cold.”

His voice sounds almost as icy as he looks. The tone of it is so remote, it’s a wonder Harry’s words reached him at all. He won’t look at Harry either, which fills his chest with crushing hurt. _What changed?_ Last night neither of them could take their eyes off each other. It almost felt like Louis was changing his mind. It was the best first non-date Harry’s ever had. Was he crazy to think that kind of magic would continue into the morning after?

“Well it’s freezing out.” Harry’s voice is hoarse and unmistakably vulnerable. “How long have you been out here?”

Louis sticks his arms through the jacket but still doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t relax his posture.

“About four hours, I think. I woke up at about three.” He says, perfectly detached.

“Four hours?” Harry’s voice breaks with concern. “Why were you awake at 3? Are you okay?”

“You tell me.” Louis grits out, his voice finally portraying some emotion.

He turns and looks Harry right in the eyes but Harry almost wishes he hadn’t. He wishes he’d never seen someone he loves in that kind of pain. Harry thought he’d seen Louis at his worst, he thought he’d seen the full extent of his agony but this. This is on a whole other level.

“What?” All the blood rushes away from Harry’s head. There’s icy betrayal in Louis’ eyes. Now that he’s turned Harry’s way, Harry can see that his face is covered in tears that drip towards his chin, unnoticed. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean!” Louis shouts, choking on his tears. “Don’t play stupid, Harry. You know why I was up at three. You know I’m not okay. For fuck’s sake, you know the real reason why that guy left the other night, don’t you? And don’t tell me it was because he had swim practice.”

So this is what blind panic feels like. Harry stares at Louis with a shell-shocked expression on his face, heart plummeting through the ground. How can this be happening right now? How can this be happening before he had the chance to tell Louis the truth himself?

 _You had a chance_ , says a voice in the back of his head, sounding an awful lot like Zayn. _You just didn’t take it_.

“Say something!” Louis screams, his face burning red. Angry tears drip their way down his wobbly cheeks.

“I—know what you mean, yes.” Harry agrees, trying to stay calm. “But I didn’t know you knew. You don’t usually remember them.”

“Remember what?” Louis demands but there’s painful knowing in his look.

“Your nightmares.”

Louis’ face drops right into his waiting hands. His shoulders heave like sailing boats tossed about on a stormy sea.

“Louis,” Harry tries, reaching out to rub his back but Louis just knocks his hand away.

It sounds like he’s going to hyperventilate and Harry’s heart is going a million miles an hour, trying to fix this.

“I don’t get you,” Louis spits, ripping his face from the cover of his hands. “You walk around looking at me like I’m some kind of _miracle_ or something but this whole time…this whole time, you _knew_. You knew I was a freak.”

“What?” Horror fills Harry’s expression. Bile stings the back of his throat. “No, Louis! I never thought that. Never. You’ve got it all wrong.”

“Then what have you been doing all this time? God, how many times have I done this? How many times have you woken up to me screaming?” Harry’s face twitches. “And don’t you god damn lie. If you lie to me again, I swear I’ll walk away right now and you’ll never see me again, Harry.”

He points a stern finger at Harry’s face but his hands are shaking so badly, he can’t keep them steady. He looks pale and exhausted, probably scared out of his mind. Harry wishes he could say the magic words to make it all better but there’s no other way than to hash it all out. There’s no other way than to tell Louis the truth and hope that he can handle it. He can’t lose Louis because of this. The thought of it stings his eyes.

“It’s happened almost every night since the first night I met you.” He gasps. “That first night in the dorm room with you? That was the first time.”

Louis’ face pales even further, if that’s possible. He looks ghostly, like someone drained the blue right out of his eyes and poured it into his skin.

“They wouldn’t let you change rooms?” He asks, watching Harry closely.

“I don’t know. I never asked.”

“I told you not to lie to me,” Louis shouts. “I’m serious.”

“As am I.” Harry implores, reaching out for his hand. Louis snatches it away before he can catch hold. “I never asked because I didn’t feel it necessary. I dealt with it, okay? I never thought you were a freak. I haven’t been lying to you this whole time because I wanted to humiliate you, Louis. How could you ever think that I would do such a thing?”

“That’s not what I thought,” he shoots back angrily but Harry can see by the slither of relief in his expression, that it is.

“I’d never hurt you like that,” Harry promises him.

Louis angrily brushes away his tears, sniffing away the rest. He seems a bit calmer now, like the shock of Harry knowing about it has worn off just the slightest bit.

“Then why did you lie to me, Harry? What could that possibly achieve? And what do you mean you ‘dealt with it’? How do you deal with someone screaming and crying in their sleep? It must have driven you crazy.”

Louis looks down, trying to avoid exposure but Harry’s already seen the flash of guilt in his expression. The shame.

“You’re not a burden Louis. Don’t ever think that you are.”

Louis shakes his head, eyelashes jittery.

“Just tell me the truth. Tell me everything.”

“Okay.” Harry takes a breath, steadying himself for what’s to come. “I guess I should start with that first night. Let me honestly say, it was pretty terrible to begin with...”

Louis flinches and digs his fingers into the dirt beneath them. Harry pulls them straight out and twines them with his own, the necklace trapped between them. Louis looks straight up at him, eyes wide. Like he wasn’t expecting Harry to try and comfort him. He doesn’t pull his hand away this time and Harry considers that a small victory.

“I didn’t hate you, okay? I never thought badly of you. I was just shocked and frightened, really. I’d never seen anything like it. You looked so…tortured, I was just worried about you. But you were beautiful to me Louis, even then. You were in pain and that took up a lot of space in my brain but I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you were. How lucky I felt to have a boy that beautiful as my roommate.”

“A boy who screams the room down?” Louis is bitter, kicking his foot against the hill. “Oh yeah, you were real fortunate.”

Harry twists Louis’ chin to face him, fastening his eyes to Louis’.

“I was. I still am.”

“Continue.” Louis exhales, gently pulling his face away.

Harry sighs but goes on.

“It was uncomfortable, I’ll give you that. You were noisy and I didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t a position I’d ever been. What do you do when a complete stranger is having a nightmare in the bed beside you?”

“Smother him with a pillow,” Louis mutters.

“Stop that.” Harry whispers, heavy brows brushing his eyelids. “I couldn’t decide what to do so I just…I tried to go back to sleep, I’m sorry.”

Louis shakes his head.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I should have done something. I should have made some kind of effort to help you. But I…hesitated.”

“You should have called someone in administration and told them then and there that you couldn’t room with me. That’s what you should have done. God, how do you ever get any sleep?”

“I developed a strategy,” Harry confesses timidly.

Louis raises an eyebrow.

“A strategy?”

“Yeah. That first night, it got pretty bad. The neighbours were banging on the walls. I had to do something.”

Louis nods, not understanding.

“Right…”

“So I tried waking you up…”

“That didn’t work,” Louis says decisively.

“No,” Harry agrees, biding his time. “It didn’t work. I knew if I tried hard enough I could probably wake you but it occurred to me that waking you might not be the best idea. I didn’t want to scare you.”

“You’re right. I don’t deal well with being woken up in the middle of a nightmare.”

“I know,” Harry says, a touch of nostalgia in his tone.

It makes Louis freeze up, expression caught between shock and distrust.

“Lou—“

“Stop,” he rubs at his temples, shuddering violently, despite being wrapped up in Harry’s coat. “It’s too much. I can’t even _think_ about everything you know. Because if I do, if I think about everything you must have seen over the last eight months, everything you must have heard…I just, I just lose it.”

"Louis, listen to me. I know this must be impossibly hard to hear, I know your world is quaking right now but if you think about the past eight months, if you really _think_ about what we've been through, you'll see that nothing's changed. I knew from the beginning that you were complicated but nothing about that deterred me from getting to know you. And the more I got to know you, the more I _wanted_ to get to know you. Lou, you're this mesmerising, chaotic, addictive person and I just want to take your pain away."

“But you can’t.” Louis’ face is solemn. “You can’t save me from it and you’ll never be able to. It doesn’t work like that. Those nightmares aren’t just monsters in my head Harry, they’re real.”

“I know.” He reaches over and squeezes Louis’ elbow. “God Lou, I know. You’ve been through some kind of trauma, haven’t you?”

Louis laughs bitterly.

“I suppose you could call it that, yeah.”

“Lou,” Harry cups the side of his face, swiping away another lingering tear. “Do you want to take a break? We could go get breakfast or something.”

“No,” Louis’ answer is swift. “Finish your side of the story. I need to know.”

“Okay…” Harry sighs. “Where was I up to?”

“You couldn’t wake me.”

“Right, so when I couldn’t wake you I decided to try something else. I thought maybe if I just gave you a hug, it might calm you down a bit, you know?”

“You…hugged me?” Louis asks, incredulous. “You didn’t even _know_ me.”

“I know.” Harry swallows, feeling sick. All he can think about is Zayn’s reaction to it. God, what if Louis feels the same? What if he thinks Harry’s some kind of pervert? “But I wanted to help you and it was all I could think to do.”

Louis’ expression isn’t giving much away. He only looks a touch pensive around the eyes.

“I don’t understand. What did you do when I wouldn’t stop?”

“You did stop.” Harry strokes his cheek. “You calmed right down as soon as I put my arms around you.”

Louis’ breath hitches. He reaches up to cover Harry’s hand with his own, eyes closing. Harry can see his shoulders shaking silently and when he opens his eyes back up, they’re filled with tears.

“Are you…okay?”

“No,” Louis whispers. “I’m not okay. Not even the slightest bit.”

“Can I…” Harry sweeps a hand over Louis’ shoulder and down the length of his arm. “Can I give you a hug?”

Louis’ chest expands and then concaves into a singular sob. He presses his wrist to his mouth, holding it in.

“Yeah.” He nods, “please.”

Harry hauls Louis into his lap and holds him tight, rocking him back and forth until the moment passes. When he looks at Louis’ face, resting on his shoulder, he can see how overwhelmed Louis is. Shattered from the inside out.

“Are you sure you don’t need a break?”

Louis moves his head away from Harry’s shoulder but stays seated in his lap, blinking up at him with bleary eyes.

“I’m okay,” he promises. “I’m just shocked. After what happened to me, no one could stop me from dreaming about it. No one could stop the nightmares once they’d started. They tried waking me but I’d get so upset, so volatile. Eventually they just...stopped. We lived through it. I’d deprive myself of sleep until I could hold on no longer. I’d slip into a nightmare and it wouldn’t end until I woke up on my own screaming. My family learned to sleep with headphones.”

“Even your mum?” Harry says, shocked.

“Yeah, even my mum. It wasn’t because they didn’t care Harry, they just didn’t know what to _do_. They couldn’t help me. Or at least not with that. Mum paid for some therapy and the girls were amazingly supportive. They were always there for a cuddle or a chat when I needed them.”

“But nothing ever helped?”

“Nothing, apart from therapy. Talking to someone about what happened seemed to make the memory of it a lot less powerful. Eventually the nightmares just stopped. Or so I thought.” He sighs.

“It stopped before you came here? The nightmares were gone?”

“Yes,” Louis looks exhausted, completely overrun by defeat. “I thought it was finally over. That’s why I quit therapy in the first place. My doctor was a right arse about it.”

“You quit therapy against your doctor’s wishes? Fuck Lou, what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking, Harry that it’d be fucking fantastic if I could finally go to university. Doctor Dick disagreed. But I’d already deferred. Twice. I gave myself time to deal with it, I gave myself time to get better and I did. I was over feeling like a prisoner in my own home. I was over sitting in that doctor’s office every day, feeling sorry for myself, going over and over the events of that day. As if it could ever change what happened to me. The therapy cured me of my nightmares, it meant Mum stopped giving me side eye every time I so much as flinched. I was grateful for that, obviously but in my eyes, it had done its job. What was the point in continuing?”

“The point? Louis, the point is your doctor didn’t think you were ready for this. There has to be a reason for that, surely.”

Louis avoids his gaze.

“He says I haven’t confronted the memory. That’s why it’s still haunting me.”

“So that’s why the nightmares are back?” Harry presses. “You’re suffering because you quit therapy too soon?”

“No,” Louis’ voice is an angry rush of emotion. He locks eyes with Harry, voice gone so cold it raises the hairs on Harry’s neck. “I’m suffering because two years ago something shitty happened to me and I’ve been paying for it ever since. I’m suffering because that’s what happens when you go through a trauma. It’s been two years, not ten. Why does everyone expect me to be perfect?”

“I don’t expect that,” Harry reels back. “I never would. I just want you to take responsibility for the fact that you’re not okay and that you haven’t been since you stopped seeing your doctor. I know I don’t know the whole story—“

“No,” Louis cuts him off, eyes blazing. “You don’t.”

“Okay, easy...” Harry whispers. “I’m just trying to understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis visibly slackens. “You don’t deserve this.”

“It’s okay. I know how unsettling this must be. All this time you thought your secret was safe and here I am telling you I know just about everything you’ve been hiding.”

Louis swallows, gazing at him quietly now, as if he’s seeing things he’s never seen before.

“Tell me the rest.”

So Harry does.

“After I successfully got you to stop crying, I tried to go back to my own bed. But as soon as I moved away, you picked back up. It was like you were scared I’d leave you or something.” He blushes. “I know, it sounds ridiculous but…”

“No, it doesn’t,” Louis’ face is pink too. “It doesn’t sound ridiculous at all. I’m always scared of that. Even when I’m awake.”

“You’re scared I’ll leave you?”

Harry’s heart splinters inside his chest.

“You’re so many things that I’m not.” Louis touches his cheek, gently tracing his way across Harry’s skin. He touches Harry with a kind of tenderness usually reserved for Moo. “And I’m so many things you’ll never be. You’re not twisted like I am.”

Harry slowly threads his fingers through Louis’, watching his face for any signs of unease. He finds only the gentlest relief, like Harry’s touch actually makes this beautiful boy feel happy.

“But I don’t need to be roommates with someone who always sleeps through the night. I don’t want to be best friends with someone who doesn’t have a story to tell. And I really don’t want to feel this way about someone who isn’t at least a little bit twisted. Every part of you is fascinating to me Louis, I like it when your cracks show. Don’t get me wrong, you’re twisted in ways I never have been but I like discovering you, bit by bit and I like being the one to untwist you. I’m not going to be one of those ghosts from your past. I’m going to be the one standing there at the end of the day, holding you hand, telling you it’s okay to be the perfect little disaster that you are.”

Louis unlocks their hands and then twines them back together a moment later. He does this a couple more times. To the pace of a heartbeat. Staring at the gaps between their fingers like he’s trying to determine the hidden meaning inside. He clears his throat, the only sound that can be heard for miles. Sunlight dances along the edge of the horizon, a preview of what’s to come. The rest of the city is still sleeping, the rush of morning traffic yet to swell around them. For now, they’re in their own little bubble. In this little bubble, they’re the centre of the universe.

_Taylor Swift – You Are in Love_

Louis raises his head, cheeks hallowed with determination.

“I love you.” He croaks with quivering lips. “Harry, I love you.”

His irises are crusted in glittery blue hope, shining at Harry brighter than they ever have before. There’s fear there too, a rare kind of timidity that’s usually hidden from view. Harry’s world just implodes. Though the rush of feeling inside his chest suggests that _implodes_ really isn’t the right word because what’s happening to him now, it’s the complete opposite. The opposite of concaving, the opposite of deflation. His world feels ten times the size it was yesterday, expanding just as quickly as his heart. What’s happening to him now is the kind of sensation he never wants to forget. What’s happening to him now is more love than he ever thought he could feel.

“Don’t say anything,” Louis says hastily, on the brink of tears. “Even if you feel it back, just…don’t. Because I don’t want to hear it. I’m not ready to hear it. Not now, not like this. I don’t want you to tell me you love me when I’m not sure I can forgive you for lying to me. I don’t want you to tell me you love me until you know exactly how fucked I am inside. And I…I don’t want you to tell me you _don’t l_ ove me either. Because if you tell me you _don’t_ love me, I’ll never tell anyone the truth. I’ll never be brave enough to trust someone I love to love me anyway, to love the monsters inside my head too.”

_Imagine Dragons - Demons_

It’s quite a speech, one that Harry would very much like to respond to. Now. Before the mood passes and Louis changes his mind. Before Louis realises his love for Harry is no match for his mistrust. Nonetheless Harry has to respect his wishes. If he wants any chance of ending up with this boy, he has to comply.

“Okay,” He takes a calming breath. “So where were we before we got sidetracked? Again.”

“You were telling me how I wouldn’t let you leave.” Louis tells him, cheeks dipped in pink.

For someone who’s just confessed their love for him, this boy is awfully shy.

“Right, of course. You were upset, so I stayed. Set my alarm for early morning and slipped back into bed before you could wake up. I didn’t want you to wake up in my arms and I really didn’t want you to think I had taken advantage of you while you were sleeping.”

“But you were going to talk to me about it in the morning? You were going to tell me the truth?”

“Yes,” Harry is firm. “I was always going to tell you the truth.”

Louis’ face bunches up into a grimace.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Do you remember our first morning together? Do you remember what we talked about?”

“Of course.” Louis looks insulted. “I sat on you until you woke up, we introduced ourselves and then you asked me…”

His expression goes blank. A moment later, it clears.

“You said, “does this usually happen?”

“I said, “is it always this bad?”

Louis looks thrown off course. It obviously wasn’t something that occurred to him when he was putting all the pieces together in his head.

“I saw the fear on your face,” Harry divulges. “The absolute terror. I could tell whatever was going on was something you didn’t want anyone to know. So I lied. I said you snored and you looked so relieved, I knew I was doing the right thing. The next night it happened again. Only this time I made the mistake of _forcing_ you to wake up. You completely freaked out on me. You were screaming so loud. I couldn’t handle the thought that I’d caused you that much distress. And then it got worse. you went into some kind of catatonic state and I couldn’t even reach you. It took both of those things for me to realise that all I could do was be there in the moment and hold you till the worst of it stopped.”

“It must have been terrible for you.” Louis says, pained.

“Yes and no. I hated seeing you in pain but in some ways, I felt privileged. I was glad there was something I could do, no matter how small. Even if you didn’t know I was doing it. And the more nights I spent shielding you from your nightmares, the less inclined I felt to tell you the truth. It just seemed cruel and unnecessary. I was trying to protect you.”

“You can’t protect me from myself.” Louis says, hurt shining through his tone. “I would have had to face the truth eventually, anyway. Is that why you lied about my one night stand? Because you thought it would protect me?”

“Yes. And I would do it again.”

“Harry, you can’t save me from that kind of negativity. You can’t protect me. If there’s anything I’ve learnt from what I’ve been through, it’s exactly that. Because there are no safe places in this world, there are no safe people.”

“You don’t think I’m safe?” Harry ventures quietly. “You seem to think my arms are a pretty safe place when you’re asleep.”

Louis sighs, insipid.

“It’s about so much more than that and you know it. It’s about trust. The fact of the matter is you _lied_ to me Harry. You led me to believe I was okay when really…I was the furthest thing from it.”

“And I’m sorry,” Harry pleads. “I really am but I was still there for you when you needed me. Conscious or not, I was there. It just got easier and easier to rationalise as time wore on. We got closer and we ended up sharing a bed anyway.”

“I’m well aware.”

“But then I told the boys everything and Zayn completely flipped out on me.”

“You told them?” Louis’ breath quickens. “You told all three of those boys about my…my problem? And you still didn’t think to ask if that was okay with me? It was your secret to share, was it?”

“Lou, c’mon.” Harry squeezes his forearm but the other boy turns away.                       

“I just don’t understand Harry. You keep saying these wonderful things and trying to tell me you did all of this to protect me but it doesn’t change the fact that you lied. You didn’t think I was strong enough to handle the truth, you didn’t even give me the choice.”

Harry kneads the front of his face. Louis might love him but that’s no use without trust.

“If I had another chance, I can’t say I’d do things differently.” Harry admits. “You’re right, I didn’t know if you were strong enough and I chose not to tell you. I thought it was the best thing for you at the time. I know how that sounds. I know I’m pig headed to think I know what’s best for you but this situation is kind of unprecedented. I had no idea what I was doing. I just thought that if I could be there for you, it wouldn’t be an issue. I could keep the bad dreams away.”

Louis crosses his arms.

“I just can’t believe you told them. Was that supposed to solve all my problems, Harry? Was it supposed to help me?”

“I thought they’d be able to help _me_ somehow. I was scared, Lou and I was struggling. I knew I had to find a way to tell you the truth but I didn’t want to hurt you. I couldn’t hurt you.”

“But you have,” Louis’ voice shakes. “You have hurt me.”

“I know,” Harry squeezes his eyes shut, tears threatening. “I know I’ve fucked up but please just let me finish. _Please_. I didn’t tell the boys because I thought it was my right to tell them, I told them because I needed to tell _someone_. And I...I couldn’t bring myself to tell you.”

“Right.” Louis’ face is unreadable. “So Zayn freaked out, you said?”

“Yeah, he was furious with me. He said I’d taken advantage of you. He was disgusted that I’d taken it upon myself to try and comfort you that way.”

“He said you took advantage of me?” Louis’ jaw clicks. “Like you’re some kind of offender or something?”

“Well…yeah.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Louis shouts, eyes gone wide with rage.

“It is?” Harry frowns.

“What?” Louis turns to him. “Of course it is.”

“I mean, _I_ thought it was but I wouldn’t expect you to. Louis, I did touch you without your consent. I may not have assaulted you or meant anything bad by it, but I did comfort you without your consent.”

“Harry,” Louis grabs his shoulder. “Are you listening to yourself right now? Comfort me without my consent? Are you _kidding_ me? You held me in your arms, you eased my pain. Harry…I can’t say I’m not angry with you for what happened but it’s not about that. How could I be angry with you for that? I’m angry at you for lying to me, not for doing what you did. What you did was selfless. It was amazing.”

“But I…liked holding you.” Harry can barely meet his eyes. “It meant something to me.”

“When?”

“What do you mean ‘when’?” Harry asks, befuddled.

“When did it start to mean something to you? After you got to know me or before?”

“After.”

“So you only gained something _after_ we had built a relationship. You didn’t take advantage of me Harry.” Louis sighs. “You didn’t take anything from me. You found intimacy with me because I let you have it.”

“You really don’t think I did anything wrong?” A tear slips down the outside of Harry’s cheek, easing its way down. He shakes his head in disbelief. “You don’t hate me?”

Louis takes hold of his jaw, wiping Harry’s tears away with his sleeve.

“I could never hate you, love. Who’d help co-parent Moo?”

Harry chuckles wetly.

“You’re hardly a co-parent.”

“Exactly,” Louis grins. “We’d be lost without you.”

“Well,” Harry draws closer, dimpling the way he always does when he smiles at Louis. “At least you know that much.”

Louis giggles, pushing his face away weakly.

“Stop trying to charm me, I already told you I love you.”

Harry wants to laugh, he wants to joke and flirt back. It just means too much to him. Hearing Louis say he loves him is the sweetest sound he’s ever heard in his life.  

“You did.” Harry can feel the glow in his cheeks. “You said that.”

“About Zayn,” Louis says softly, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He knows what kind of person you are. We all do.”

“I know.” Harry smiles weakly. “We talked about it after. It was more about him than me, really. He’s had his own issues with that kind of thing.”

“Fair enough.”

Louis’ expression is still soft.

“Is that all you wanted to know?” Harry asks him gently.

“I’m still trying to process. You really spent the last eight months taking care of me without my knowledge?”

“I did my best, yeah.”

“And you never wanted to ask me why? You never tried to find out where it was all coming from?”

“I did.” Harry gulps. “It’s how I got to know you better.”

“Those questions…” Louis recalls, eyes faraway. “The probing…”

“It wasn’t just a fact-finding mission,” Harry’s fingers glide across his forearm. “I wanted to know what caused you so much pain. I wanted to know if anything was capable of taking it away.”

“I don’t think it’ll ever go away. It’s part of me now. But…” he sighs, “it’s a part of me I’m willing to share with you.”

“Are you sure?” Harry cups his face. “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”

“You lied to me.” Louis tilts his face into Harry’s palm. “That’s something I’m going to have to forgive. But I don’t want to let any more secrets stand in our way. I love you. And if we can’t make this work, I don’t want it to be because I was scared or angry. I’d rather you say it’s all too much for you. At least then I’ll know I did everything I could. At least I’ll know I gave us a real chance at being a couple. In spite of how terrifying that feels.”

“I’m just concerned. I don’t want you to feel like you owe it to me. I’ve hurt you as much as I’ve helped you.”

“I don’t feel like I owe you, Harry.” Louis assures him. “I’m grateful to you, I feel in awe of everything you’ve done but I’m not doing this to satisfy any guilt I have. I’m doing it because I promised myself I would. Last night I realised I was in love with you and I promised myself I wouldn’t let you go without having told you the truth. I don’t want you to walk away without knowing me completely.”

 “I want to know you.” Harry says, voice featherlight. “I’ve wanted that from the first moment I saw you, tangled in your sheets, twisted in agony. Your wings were broken and I didn’t know how to heal them but I knew you were my little fallen angel. I knew you could change my life.”

Louis’ breath hitches.

“Don’t stop me, okay? I’m going to tell you everything now because if I don’t tell you now, I never will. Just don’t talk, please. Just listen and when it’s over and done with, when I’ve said everything I need to say, then you can tell me how you feel.”

“Deal,” Harry says gravely, watching Louis for any signs of regret.

“Okay…” He seems to steel himself, collecting his thoughts.

_Simple Plan- How Could This Happen to Me_

“I should probably start by saying you’re the only person that I’ve ever told, aside from my therapist and the people who already knew. I’m not sure I’ll be any good at it. It gets kind of jumbled in my head sometimes. I think I blocked a lot of it out because…well, for obvious reasons. My doctor thought so too. He said it can sometimes be difficult to recall details in a disaster. I guess your body is so pumped full of adrenaline, you can’t compute. You can’t think straight, let alone retain information. After the trauma’s over, it’s even harder because we only think about what we know we can handle. It’s the underlying cause of my nightmares, I think; the full extent of my memory. In sleep, we don’t really get the choice to ignore it.”

“You dream about it like you’re living it all over again, don’t you?”

Louis mimes a ‘shush’ motion. Harry grins and pretends to zip his lips. No more interrupting.

“You’re right though.” Louis says with a sharp intake of breath. “It’s like I’m right there in the store again, stacking shelves while Tammy throws receipt rolls at my back.”

Louis’ barely started and Harry already wants to ask him so many things. _Who’s Tammy? Was she important to you? Is she gone now?_ But he stifles the urge, shuffling closer instead. Louis’ eyes are hazy up close, like every word draws him further back into the past. Harry knits their fingers together and hopes that it anchors him somehow.

“I was working nights at the local grocery store trying to save for a car. I’d finished school, gotten into uni and the only thing that stood between me and total independence was my lack of wheels. So I looked around and found a job stacking shelves at this hole in the wall grocery store, two streets away from my house. It was the saddest little shop I’ve ever seen. The paint was chipped, the shelves were always dusty, business was minimal at the best of times. I don’t even really know how they got by. But they must have been doing alright, seeing as it’s still up and running now. That’s what mum tells me anyway. I’ve not been back since.”

Harry’s skin crawls. His nerves kick in. This feels like the point of no return. He’ll never be able to un-know what he knows once this conversation is through. He’ll always be one of the few keepers of Louis’ secret. It’s a huge step and yet deep-down Harry knows he’d never feel right again if he didn’t take it.

“I haven’t been back since…” He pauses, like the weight of what he’s about to say is too much to carry. “I haven’t been back since I got shot.”

Harry didn’t see it coming. He chokes slightly, shocked teardrops pushing their way to the corners of his eyelids.

“Permission to talk, please.”

Louis sighs and makes an open gesture with his hand. “Go on then.”

“You got shot?” Harry bursts out. “Where?”

Louis takes Harry’s hand, linked with his and presses it below the waistline of his pants. It’s a little south of his hip, in a place Harry’s eyes have never lingered. It’s smaller than Harry would have thought and less noticeable too. There’s only a slight difference between this rough textured skin and the smooth skin surrounding it.

“Are you…is it grossing you out?” Louis says through pursed lips. “It’s okay if you don’t want to touch it.”

“What?” Harry’s face tenses up with horror. “No, Louis. _God_. It’s part of you. How could I ever be disgusted by that?”

“Other people have been,” Louis says quietly, calmly pushing Harry’s hand away. “A guy I slept with last year told me I should warn people before I let them touch me.”

“He said that?” Harry’s voice fills with venom. “He made you feel like you needed to be ashamed of your scar?”

“Well…” Louis’ voice is weak, he won’t stop pressing his fingers into that spot. It must hurt at least a little. “It’s not exactly sexy.”

“But it is,” Harry implores, grabbing his hand and pulling it away. He takes hold of Louis’ wrists and massages them with his thumbs. “You _are_. Sex isn’t smooth, hairless skin, Louis. Sex is wanting someone in the most carnal, primal way a human being can want another human being. If it’s meaningless, the scars shouldn’t matter. You want fire, you want completion. And if it’s more than that, if…” he falters, blushing a little, “if you want to make _love_ to someone, then a scar _is_ sexy. A scar is the unique difference between the person you choose to be intimate with and everybody else. No one has that exact scar, just like no else has these crinkly eyes or those dimples at the bottom of your spine. These things about you are sexy, they are beautiful because if we were together, they’d be the reason you’d be lying in my bed and not someone else’s. They’d be the reasons I’m attracted to you, the kind of things I picture when I close my eyes just to see your face. A scar isn’t a shameful thing Louis, it’s a reminder that you’re this very person for a reason.”

“Jesus,” Louis swipes away another errant tear. “You’re killing me here, Styles.”

Harry chuckles and grabs his wrists again. Bringing them to his lips, he kisses each one, gently pressing his lips to Louis’ pulse points.

“I love your wrists, you know.”

“My wrists?” Louis’ face pinks up, a small smile poking through. “Really?”

“They’re delicate and sort of feminine.” Harry muses. “Kind of like your ankles. You have cute ankles too.”

Louis giggles and pulls his arms from Harry’s grip.

“Now you’re just being silly.”

“I am,” Harry agrees, dimples twitching. “But I also mean every word.”

Louis’ smile dims but the feeling is in his eyes, all lit up from within.

“I got shot,” he says, like it’s only the second time he’s ever said the words aloud.

“You got shot,” Harry agrees, expression solemn.

“It wasn’t the worst part really. It happened very quickly and I barely felt it. I suppose the rush of adrenaline dulled the pain. I was stacking shelves and my friend Tammy was doing her best to hinder the task. There were five of us on at the time, kind of strange for any time of week, let alone a quiet Monday night. It was stocktake though so the entire staff was needed in just to count. We finished counting a couple of hours in. The other three were supposed to go home once we were done but they stayed with me and Tammy. We were all friends and we hung out there like that all the time. It was a normal weekly hangout for us.

“I suppose that’s one of the first things I thought of when I work up in the hospital later on. That maybe if we hadn’t have been such good friends, it wouldn’t have happened. I mean they say hindsight is 20/20, after all. But then I think…what use is that? What use it knowing you could have avoided the terrible thing that’s _already_ happened? I think that’s what survivor’s guilt is. You think if you had of just died along with them, that would have fixed everything. You wouldn’t be feeling this pain now. You wouldn’t be The Survivor. You wouldn’t be the only one left here without them. But you didn’t die, they did and killing yourself now won’t bring them back. It won’t change the fact that they died and you didn’t. That’s what I tell myself every day. Because every day I feel like I should be suffering _more_ and the only thing that stops me from curling into a ball is knowing that it would be selfish to live that way. I don’t want to be the survivor who just survived. I wanna be worth it.”

Harry’s chest aches. His eyes ache. Everything aches for this boy. This beautiful, brave boy.

“I’m not able to…” Louis looks down at his hands, kneading the fingers of one hand with the other. “I can’t remember when they first stormed in. I do know where everyone was because they were always in the same places. Tammy was by the front register, facing me. Daniel was sitting on a shelf in the next aisle over, talking shit with Maddy. They were gossips, the both of them. Maddy was the kind of girl you make fun of for being privileged but deep down, you know she has a heart of gold.  She was fifteen at the time, on the verge of becoming a woman but not quite there yet. She’d borrow her mum’s lipstick and wear it to work every night. Older guys would hit on her like crazy but me and Daniel always did our best to scare them away. She pretended to hate us for it but I think deep down she was glad. She was the kind of girl who’d give it all away to the wrong guy if he romanced her just right. She was just…sunshine really. All of the customers loved her. We called her Baby Spice because she was the youngest but I think she actually might have been the smartest too. She knew Daniel was gay before any of us clued in, including Daniel himself.

“Daniel was…Daniel was the kind of guy who’d look after you whether you asked for it or not. He was always handing me energy bars and telling me to drink more water. One time he gave me his phone to walk home with because he was so worried I’d get murdered.” Louis’ face tenses. “I suppose that’s the awful irony of it. He was the one person in that store who would not think twice about dying for somebody else and they shot him first.”

“Lou.” It’s all Harry can say, face painted in waves of sympathy.

“He asked me out, you now.” Louis smiles, tearfully. “I thought it was so sweet, the way he went about it. He picked some flowers from his garden and wrote me this really nice letter. He even bought me my favourite chocolates. It hurt to tell him no but I was dating someone at the time. The third cab off the rank. You know, the one who left me after it all went down. I just wish now that I hadn’t wasted my time with someone who couldn’t stick it out when things got tough. If their positions were reversed, Daniel would have stayed with me. He would have stuck by me even at my worst. This other guy, he was the only thing standing between us and if I hadn’t been with him, I would have been with Daniel. He would have been loved, I would have loved him.”

“But you did,” Harry protests. “You did love him, Louis. Even if it wasn’t in the way he wanted. He sounds like the kind of guy who would have accepted it and appreciated your friendship anyway.”

“He did,” Louis says, ignoring the fact that Harry’s speaking out of turn again. “But I still think about it, you know? What would we have been like together? He was such a nice guy. He was the guy you marry straight out of school because you’re that certain he’ll still be good to you seventy years down the track. I kind of think we might have ended up together. We might have grown old together if he hadn’t of bled out on the floor beside me.”

Harry watches Louis’ face pale. His breaths become shorter and less stable. Tears smart in his eyes and he reaches out to grab Harry’s arm.

“Daniel—“ he cries out, panting. “Daniel, he just—he just. I _can’t_.“

“Lou, breathe.” Harry tells him, cupping his cheek. “C’mon baby, breathe with me. Watch my chest.”

“I can’t.” Louis gasps, tears racing their way down his cheeks. “I can’t breathe.”

Harry makes an effort to breathe as slowly and as deeply as possible. He knows that if he can just get Louis to take a couple of decent breaths, the oxygen will go straight to his brain and he should be able to think clearly again.

Louis watches Harry’s chest with wide eyed panic, shaking in his grip.

“Harry,” he wails, fingers digging into Harry’s arm.

“C’mon babe, you can do it. Breathe with me.”

Louis follows his breathing closely, crying noisily. Eventually his breathing returns to a normal rhythm. He shuts his eyes, shuddering silently. Tears cascade down his soft, rounded cheeks. His bottom lip wobbles as though it might fall off.

“Baby, don’t be embarrassed.” Harry pleads, close to tears himself. “Please don’t be embarrassed. It’s normal, okay? Especially when you’ve been through something like this.”

“It’s been two years, Harry. Almost three.” Louis shouts, burying his face in his hands. “I should be over this by now. I’m over this, okay?”

Harry squeezes his shoulder.

“Okay, love. But I need you to know that it’s okay if you’re not. The only person who expects that of you is you. You’re not being fair to yourself.”

“I just…” Louis shudders again, holding his body taut. “I feel like I’m never going to be okay again. I’m never going to feel the same way I did before.”

“You’re right,” Harry tells him. “You never will. What you must have gone through, god I haven’t even heard the half of it…but I do know this. An event like that changes a person and you can’t just go back. It’s not that easy.”

“But what if I don’t want it to change me?” He asks. “What if I just want to be me again?”

“But you are _you_ ,” Harry insists. “You’re the person you were always meant to be.”

“Oh c’mon Harry, don’t tell me this is my bullshit fate,” Louis says, voice acerbic. “You may as well say it’s God’s plan to have me suffer.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that what happened to you made you into this person and that this is the person you needed to be. Because this person is brave and strong and determined to make the most of his life. This person is a force to be reckoned with. That’s not a cruel fate Louis, it’s a blessing in disguise.”

“You’re saying my friends died so that I could be reborn?” Louis’ face is cold. “Harry, that’s sick.”

“Fuck, _Louis_.” Harry pleads, grabbing hold of his tan biceps. “You know that is _not_ what I meant. I know that they suffered unnecessarily. I know that you suffered because of it but suffering is what makes a person who they are. We all suffer Lou. We all go through hell. It’s what we make of it that matters and what you have made of yourself, _Louis_. What you have taken away from it is amazing. You haven’t let it destroy you. You haven’t given it that much power. Your smile is always so radiant, you are so luminous, you make the people around you _shine_.”

“But I’m…I’m so…”

“I know,” Harry squeezes his arms. “I know you’re not better yet, you know it too but that doesn’t mean you haven’t come a long way. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be commended just for getting up every day and making the most of it.”

“I didn’t.” Louis says, eyes vacant. “For a long while afterwards, I didn’t. I just laid in bed and stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t understand it, couldn’t fathom how this terrible tragedy happened to me. I certainly couldn’t confront it, I couldn’t think about what it all meant. To me, it didn’t mean anything but pain and sadness. it meant that my life was over. I took the little white pills the doctor prescribed me and slept through far too many weeks of my life. It was months before I even thought about leaving my bed. Mum would change me and feed me like I was in a coma. And sometimes, I felt like I was.

“But then I’d see the guilt in her expression, the _hurt_. She was suffering along with me and I knew I couldn’t do it to her for much longer. So I got up. Three months to the day, I got up and I took a shower. My legs collapsed in on me and I blacked out for at least two hours. Mum found me slumped in the corner of the shower. She had to get me up and moving but I’m pretty sure she cried with relief. It’s the other time in our lives we don’t talk about; how she changed my sheets every day. How she had to dress her eighteen-year-old son. It’s just too much for either of us. You probably think the whole thing with Mark is even more pathetic now, hey? She nursed me through the worst time of my life and I can’t even forgive her for something that’s not her fault.”

“I don’t think that at all.” Harry promises him, rubbing his arm. “I know you can’t help the way you feel. You’ve lost so much, Louis. It’s okay to be a little angry with the world.”

“But I’m not angry with the world, that’s the thing.” Frustrated tears smart in his eyes, turning his whole face red. “I’m angry with _her_ for pushing him away and making him leave. I’m angry with Mark for wanting to leave in the first place. I’m angry with the thugs who stole my friend’s lives, who thought they could just take whatever they wanted and leave corpses in their place. I’m angry with my doctor for asking me to relive that and for all the times he told me to describe how it felt to watch them _die._ As if there was any way I could make sense of their senseless deaths. But most of all Harry, most of all, I’m angry with _you_.”

“Me?” Harry’s chest aches. “Why?”

“I’m angry with you…” he says, wiping away his tears. “Because you’re the only person I could ever fall in love with while my heart’s this broken. I’m angry that I didn’t see it sooner, before I could stop myself. Before it was too late. I’m angry that you _lied_ to me but I still love you so fucking much, I can’t walk away. I can’t walk away without telling you the truth, even if it means you walk away from _me_. I’m angry, because my friends died and I should have died with them. Instead, I lived. Now I’ve met you and I don’t deserve it Harry. I don’t deserve to live happily ever after with you.”

“Lou, I—“

“Don’t,” Louis warns him with a glower. “Because whatever you’re going to say isn’t going to change the way that I feel. People try to fix me Harry but they don’t realise, it hurts more than them just accepting my pain. I can’t change it, you’re right but if I can’t change it, what makes them think they can? I have to get this out. I can’t even begin to—not until you know. Okay, H? Just let me try and get it out first.”

Harry nods obediently, though his chest is aching with the need to reassure him. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he wants to show Louis but it has to wait until he’s done. It has to wait until Harry’s proven the fact that he’s not going anywhere, no matter how much Louis’s been through.

“The last person on with us was this older guy Jarred. He wasn’t much older than us, probably twenty-four at the most. But he smoked pot and rode around on this insanely loud motorbike so we secretly thought he knew things we didn’t. He was always making fun of Maddy for trying to impress the older guys. I think it was because he was that guy who just didn’t care what anyone thought. He hated the job. But he said he’d rather be working this shitty ass job and getting to write the stuff he wanted, than studying at all hours of day just to wind up in some poorly paid internship at a magazine he’d never respect. I admired him a lot, actually. I liked his devil may care attitude and the way he hid his writing from us, so possessive. He was insistent that other people’s opinions were irrelevant. He thought that letting any of us read it would ruin his passion for whatever it was he wrote.”

Louis’ nostalgic smile fades into a grimace.

“It’s weird that I don’t remember them coming in, isn’t it?” He asks, a rhetorical question. “I remember milk bottle lids pinging off the shelves, that’s what I remember. There were these little dinging sounds that sounded so quiet in my ears. I suppose they weren’t quiet at all. They got louder when I realised what they were. At first, I just thought it was Tammy, throwing random shit at me. Tammy and I liked to piss each other off. We liked to hang shit on each other, it’s what we did. She was a teen mum, working three jobs just to stay afloat. She was hardcore, Tammy but still a kid in every way that matters. A kid raising a kid, that was her life. I think sometimes she just wanted to pick up and leave but she had nowhere go and nothing to run to. So she stayed and I quickly found a friend in her. She was the most level headed of us all, the most self-aware. I think if she’d have lived, she would have quit one of her jobs and gone back to study. Money would have been tight but Tammy would have made it work, I know she would have.

“Milk bottle lids, I thought, she’s throwing milk bottle lids at my back. I guess I just couldn’t comprehend what was happening. There must have been shouting. Tammy must have screamed, but all I heard were these little dinging sounds, all I knew was that there were these little hard objects flying between the shelves around me. I was lucky they didn’t rebound right into my chest. I turned to yell at Tammy, still labouring under the impression it was her doing. That’s when one of them hit me, right in that spot I showed you.

“I remember thinking…that’s a little too sharp to be a milk bottle lid. It felt like someone had shoved a piece of glass right through my hip. I was in so much pain, I couldn’t breathe but then I moved and it was so much worse. It started to burn like someone had set my bloody hip alight. As though someone had shoved a burning hot, serrated knife through my side and was twisting it mercilessly. I couldn’t even scream, I was in too much pain. I suppose that was a good thing, I couldn’t make any noise that would draw attention to myself. But in that moment all I knew was searing hot pain. I melted to the floor, just trying to comprehend what was happening to me. I soon found out. When my hands hit the floor, they came away wet. I looked down and there was a sea of blood creeping out from the next aisle over. I heard Daniel groan, I heard him plead and then I heard them shoot him. I heard them shoot him over and over again until he stopped making any noise at all.”

Harry’s face must be almost as ashen white as Louis’ at this point. His hands _must_ be shaking. He can’t stop picturing Daniel, this boy he knows almost nothing about aside from his name. This boy who would have loved and protected Louis all his life but never got the chance. Harry can’t stop thinking of the way he died, terrified and begging for mercy. He can’t stop picturing Louis, bleeding from a gunshot wound and looking down to find his hands dripping with his friend’s fresh blood. He must have been so terrified.

“I…panicked,” Louis’ voice shakes, thick with sadness. “I tried to wipe his blood off on the self. I remember seeing a photo of it in the police report. This dirty, bloodied handprint, this horrible stain standing out against the white shelf I’d been stacking the hour before. It was the same shelf I’d stacked with Daniel every Thursday night, sitting on his shoulders as he hoisted me up to the top. It was the same shelf I’d walked past with mum a million times before, trying to convince her to buy me some stupid sugary cereal. There it was, sitting in a police report that they’d later use as evidence. As if the fact that I’d tried to wipe my friend’s blood off on that shelf proved anything apart from my own cowardice.”

“Louis—“

“I _hid_ , Harry.” Louis scrunches his fingers in the grass around him, tearing it away from the dirt. “My friends were dying around me, dropping like flies and all I could think to do was hide. I heard Maddy scream, just once. She didn’t even try to stop them. She wouldn’t though, would she? She was too young, too naive. She just…she didn’t deserve to die like that Harry. On the cold floor of a grocery store, without anyone there to hold her hand or stroke her hair. I wanted to Harry, I wanted to go check on her. To check on _both_ of them. I was so sure they were both dead but I…” he lets out a vicious sob. “I should have checked.”

“And been killed yourself?” Harry unleashes, face wet with tears. “Louis, baby—“

“No,” Louis begs, pounding the exposed earth beside him. “No, you don’t get it! I did the right thing, I _know_ that. I had to get some help. I had to do whatever it took, I know that. But you’re not thinking about the survival instinct when they’re carrying all your friends out in body bags, instead of on stretchers. You’re not thinking about strategy when the police are sitting across from you at the station, asking you to tell them how you survived. You’re not thinking about living for your family’s sake when you’ve wet the bed again and your mum’s hosing you down in the bath. You’re thinking, what if I could have saved them? What if I could have held her hand and stroked her hair? What if I could have given Daniel his first kiss and told him how much he deserved to be loved?

“I don’t even know how I moved at all, let alone made it to the store room. It had this huge metal door with a code on it and everything. Tammy and I always used to make fun of the owners for it, we thought…we thought no one would ever try and take anything from such a rundown, shitty store. I suppose that’s what made it ripe for the picking though. We were sitting ducks. Why risk one of us calling the cops when you can just shoot up the whole place and take whatever you want? They hadn’t seen me, is the thing. I figured they’d shot me mostly by accident. They fired a random spray of bullets as they came in and one of them happened to hit me. I think Tammy went down the same time as I did but hers was from a closer range. Jarred…Jarred made it to the store room at the same time as I did.

“We were hiding in there, shuddering from the cold. It was always _so_ cold in the back. He had a real bad wound in his leg, much worse than mine I think. He just kept bleeding. He was so pale, I couldn’t believe he hadn’t passed out. I kept thinking _,_ call someone for help, you need to call someone for help but I was in so much shock that I couldn’t concentrate. He was bleeding profusely and I was so busy trying to make it stop. I tied my jacket around the wound, trying to create pressure but it was soaked with his blood in minutes. I knew we couldn’t stay there. We had to get help. So I asked for his phone. He told me he’d left it on the register. I broke down. I knew mine was in Tammy’s handbag.

“I was in tears, I was so frantic but I don’t think I’d ever seen Jarred lose his cool the way he did. He lost it way worse than me, screaming and crying like something out of a soap opera. You think, people don’t lose it that way. People don’t actually go crazy with fear but he did. He went mad with desperation. He was afraid to die. This guy I’d looked up to and genuinely thought was fearless, he was afraid to die. I suppose everybody is, I was terrified myself but seeing him like that, it changed my whole worldview. I didn’t look at people the same anymore. I don’t see them as children or adults anymore. Everybody is a child to me. Every single person on this earth is a scared little kid trying to pretend that the prospect of death doesn’t scare them. People want to act like they’re immune, as if nothing can ever touch them. Death. Disease. Disaster. We act like these are forces we can control. We can’t control them, we can’t change them. I realised that when Jarred started to bleed out in front of me.

“His death was the worst,” Louis tells him, staring out at the view. “I just… I thought I could handle it. I thought I knew what was going to happen. He was going to bleed out right there in front of me and I knew that. I knew there was nothing I can do. This stand-up guy with the word _mum_ tattooed on one shoulder and the word _pot_ tattooed on the other, he was going to die right there on that floor that I’d mopped just two hours ago. That’s not how he died though and what I thought would happen did not happen. I told him to stop shouting, I told him we had to be quiet or they’d find a way in and shoot us. But it was like he didn’t hear me, he was so hysterical. His face was ghostly white and the whites of his eyes were so bright, too bright I think. I’ll always remember, he looked at me and said “I have to get out.” That was when he opened the door. They shot him before he even made it halfway up the aisle. He went down straight away. His body hit the floor so hard, I heard his bones crack. He probably didn’t feel it, he was already dead.” He closes his eyes, breathing out deeply. “But I don’t think I’ll ever forget the moment he stopped being Jarred and became a corpse instead. Right before my eyes. One moment he was Jarred, the next he was…lifeless.”

Harry curls his arms around Louis’ shaking body, holding him tight. For a few minutes, they just sit there. Holding each other tight while Louis’ body heaves with every agonising sob.

“I’ve never talked about it like this before.” He admits, pressing his face into Harry’s neck. “Never in so much detail. Not even to the police. Not in court. Not with my doctor.”

“Why me then?” Harry pulls away to look at him, devastated by the look in Louis’ eyes. “Why tell me?”

“Because I’m ready,” he presses a hand to the side of Harry’s neck, curling it around. “And because you need to know. If you choose to be with me, you have to be with all this too. These ghosts come with me, everywhere I go and I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon. Daniel, Maddy, Jarred and Tammy…they’re a huge part of me. I need you to understand why.”

“Okay Lou,” Harry presses his lips to the side of Louis’ forehead. “Then you should keep going. You can finish this babe.”

“I closed the door on the shooters. They saw me in the same moment I saw them. Our eyes locked and I slammed that door so hard, it almost bounced back open. But I don’t think they tried to get in. The police seemed to think that after I locked myself in there, they decided it was a good time to work on the safe. I think they probably assumed I had a phone with me and that the police were on their way. I knew they were wrong, I didn’t have anything with me. Or so I thought. Then I heard something chime and I dug through Daniel’s stuff until I found it. Most of us kept our stuff under the register but Daniel liked to keep his out back so he had an excuse to escape to the back whenever he wanted. Even still, he usually kept his phone on him.

“I cried when I found it, I cried when Constable Nick Grimshaw picked up. I cried when I told him that my friends were dying and that these people I’d never seen before in my life were killing them. I didn’t mention that all of them were probably already dead. I just wanted the police to get there as quickly as possible. I had it in my head that they wouldn’t try to save them if they knew they were past the point of saving.

“I remember Constable Grimshaw telling me not to worry. He told me all I had to do was sit there and hold tight. I vaguely remember rocking back and forth and screaming my lungs out about how I had to save them. I guess I’d looked down and seen all of the blood again. I was bleeding more heavily by that point but the rest of me was just covered in Daniel and Jarred. I couldn’t breathe with it on me. I felt so sick, so desperate to get it off. There was no way to stop myself from panicking, there was no one there to help me. I dropped the phone and ran. Opening the door, I went straight for the exit. I would have gotten there too if I hadn’t have tripped over Tammy’s body, lying by the foot of the door. She was so still, I could tell she was gone before I even leant down to check for a pulse. There was blood everywhere, half her insides were on the floor. She’d obviously dragged herself all the way there but died before she could make it out. I threw up on the floor beside her. That’s when the police came bursting in.

“The shooters were gone by then, obviously having retrieved what they came for. There wasn’t any _saving_ to be done because there wasn’t anybody left to save. They checked them all for signs of life but I could tell from the looks on all their faces that there weren’t any. That’s when I went into shock. I’d lost a lot of blood in that last ten minutes and apparently, I just passed out in the constable’s arms. He rode the whole way in the ambulance with me and he was the first person I saw when I woke up. ‘You did it kid,’ I remember him saying, ‘you survived the worst.’ I didn’t feel like I survived _anything_. When I finally made my statement, it was all over the place. That first week, I could barely remember anything aside from what we’d been doing just before it all went down.

“They caught the guys…because they usually do, I suppose. The shooters hadn’t been smart about it at all. They hadn’t even thought to use a stolen car and one of them had dropped some kind of discount card they’d traced right back to his address. They weren’t smart guys, is the thing. They were just desperate thugs who treated the whole thing like it was a game of cat and mouse. I suppose it was for them. They were the hunters and we were the moving targets. Maybe the money was just a bonus, I don’t know. I didn’t really listen to what they had to say in court. I said my piece, kept it short. I let the jury know _exactly_ what it was like to see my friend’s insides smeared across the floor in front of me and then I sat back down. I let the justice system do its thing. It was all I was capable of at the time.

“They were brought to justice I suppose. They each got life sentences without any possibility of parole but it’s true what they say. There is no real justice for taking someone’s life. How can you make up for that? How can you do penance for murder? It didn’t help that my friend’s families all wept with relief. I felt like it should have healed me or something. I should have walked out of that courtroom with a weight off my shoulders. The truth is, I just felt empty. I felt like I was dead but still being made to breathe. I guess that’s why he left me. My boyfriend, I mean. He would come over to see me every day. He’d bring flowers and DVD’s he knew I liked but I’d just stare at the ceiling the whole time, waiting for him to leave. It was like a gift when he did. When he walked out of that room, I no longer felt like a zombie. I just felt like somebody who’d died.”

“I still want to shake him for hurting you.” Harry says gently. “I would have stayed even if you didn’t want me to.”

“You’re the difference,” Louis smiles. “The difference between a boy and a man.”

“But I don’t know how to…” Harry shakes his head, tears saturating his voice. “Louis, I don’t know how to be a man for you right now.”

Louis looks surprised by that, jerking his head in Harry’s direction.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know how to be the brave one here. I want to make this better for you but I don’t know _how._ I want to make it worth you telling me but all I can think about is those kids, your _friends_ dying. All I can think about is the fact that you didn’t and how glad I am that you were smart enough to save yourself. I don’t think you’re selfish Louis, I don’t think you survived because you let them die. You survived because you ran for your life and I won’t ever stop thanking god that you did.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about how it could have been you. It could have been _you_ lying on that cold hard floor, bleeding out below the shelves. It could have been you, too soft to fight back, going out with a single scream. It could have been you, bleeding out faster than you could stop it, shot down as you ran for life and it could have been you, dragging yourself to freedom, only to die just as you reached the door. I can’t stop thinking Louis, it could have been you. How terrible I must be to feel this glad that it wasn’t. I can’t…I can’t comfort you like I should because I just want to hold you for my own sake. I just want to remind myself that you’re still here. I can’t be a man Louis because I’m just a boy standing next to you. You’re the man here. You’re the brave one.”

“Harry,” Louis’ face is streaming with tears. He reaches out to touch the ones collecting along Harry’s dimples. “I can’t believe you think I’m even the slightest bit brave. After everything I told you. You still think I’m…worth something.”

“Not just something.” Harry palms his blotchy cheek. “You’re worth everything to me. You always have been. From the moment I met you, to this very moment now. Telling me that story didn’t diminish my desire to protect you, it just made that desire more fierce. You’ve trusted me with something so personal and I can see it in your eyes, you have faith in me now. You don’t expect me to walk away just because you have ghosts.”

“I did,” Louis concedes, smiling tearfully. “I thought there was a good chance you’d finally wake up and realise I wasn’t worth it. From the beginning, I’ve held myself back from you and it wasn’t just because I thought it could be messy. It wasn’t just because of my stupid rule.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No,” Louis shakes his head. “It was because I’ve dated boys like you before. Or at least I thought I had. I’ve dated some really beautiful boys, Harry and I’ve chased after my fair share of them too. Heartbreakers, they were. Just like you. I thought you were one of them. But none of them ever treated me right, none of them ever treated me half as good as you. All you’ve done these past eight months is try to make me happy. All you’ve done is be there for me every single time I’ve needed you, conscious or not. And I’ve realised now that I was _wrong_. You’re not a heartbreaker Harry Edward Styles, you’re the missing link I’ve been looking for all my life.

“I told you I had a safe place when I was a kid, it was a closet. I said before, that safe places don’t exist, that safe people don’t exist but I’m beginning to think I got that wrong. I’m beginning to think that you just might be mine. My safe place. My second chance. I think I belong with you and it doesn’t scare me anymore. I love you Harry, I want this if you want me too. Please, please tell me I’m not alone in this.”

Louis’ eyes flutter closed, a small puff of air whistling past his lips. He looks worn and all cried out, his face a pretty mess of patchy pink and pale white. There’s worry lines stretched across his forehead and a frown sinking the middle of his mouth. He looks very much defeated but the slight tremble of his fingers makes Harry think of hope.

“You’re not alone.” His hands finds Louis’, gripping his trembling fingers tight. “And you never will be again. I’m in love with you, Louis Tomlinson. For so many reasons, yet all of them amounting to the same one, I love who you are and how you live. I love how stubborn you are about the stupidest things, like the amount of sugar I take in my tea or your right not to wear socks whenever you see fit.  I love how you can’t stand the thought of anyone else taking better care of you than you, even though we both know that I can, that I do. I love how you pretend to hate Moo, even though we both know you’d die before giving him up now. I love the way you eat your vegetables, how you screw your nose up like a grumpy toddler, until it’s all over and done with. I love the way you smell when you’re just fresh from the shower, the soap and aftershave mingling on your skin. I love the way you feel against me when you’re drowning in my clothes, so soft, so small. I love the little noises you make when I touch you and the brilliant colour of your eyes when you smile. I love the way you talk about your sisters and all the kind things you do without expecting to be thanked.

“I love the shape of your body beneath your clothes and the colour of your lips in the morning. I love being the one to take care of you and the one that gets to hold you every single time you cry. I love how brave and trusting you are in this moment, I love how much hope I see in your eyes. I love these hands,” He says, bringing Louis’ fingers to his lips, watching the other boy shakily inhale. “These crinkly eyes,” He sighs, reverently tracing over the patterns beside them. “And these lips,” he teases, dragging his thumb along Louis’ mouth, that opens upon his touch. “I love _you,_ Louis.”

“Fuck,” Louis sobs, pushing both hands against his mouth. “this is like some romantic comedy shit right here.”

Harry giggles.

“Perhaps. Although if this was a romantic comedy…” he smirks, “we’d be making out by now.”

“Mm, that’s true.” Louis hums, purposely fluttering his eyelashes.

“So…” Harry quirks an eyebrow.

“So, I’m just a bit tired you know.” Louis winks. “I hear morning kisses aren’t to be trusted.”

“That is so NOT funny.” Harry laughs, in spite of himself. “You don’t even know how much that kiss meant to me.”

“I do.” Louis’ grin fades, replaced by deepest sincerity. “Because it meant an awful lot to me too.”

“It did?” Harry gulps.

“I mean, yeah. Probably not in the same way as you because I freaked out but I think that’s why I freaked out so much. I knew I didn’t just kiss you because you brought me tea. I didn’t kiss you because I was too tired to think straight. I kissed you because that’s exactly what my dumb brain wants first thing in the morning when I open my eyes. My dumb brain wants you, Harry. I want you.”

“I want you too.”

Harry can feel himself getting desperate. For what reason, he’s not sure. He _has_ Louis now. What else is there left to obsess over?

“I need to kiss you,” he says, no doubt scaring Louis with the intensity of his gaze. “I need to feel you right now.”

“Hey,” Louis grabs him by the cheeks, bringing Harry’s forehead down against his own. “I’m not going anywhere, love. I promise.”

“Okay.” Harry eyes slip closed with relief. “Okay, because I don’t think I could handle it if you did, you know. You feel like home to me now. We have a home together, don’t we?”

“We do.” Louis agrees and Harry can hear him smiling. What a beautiful sound. “In our tiny little dorm room with our stupid squishy cat. You and me, Haz. Wherever I go. Whenever I’m feeling lost. When I run out of road—“

Harry opens his eyes. Latching onto Louis’ wrist, he settles his gaze on the most beautiful, _soulful_ pair of eyes he’s ever seen in his life.

“You bring me home,” he finishes roughly, then crashes their lips together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I definitely want to hear them! x
> 
> P.S There will be one more chapter after this and then the epilogue :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Harry finally learned of Louis' past. Louis finally learned of Harry's deception. There were angry tears, there were sad tears. There were confessions of love. Then they kissed and made up (literally).
> 
> This chapter...  
> This chapter leaves off a bit after that kiss, in the back of the car they slept in :) It's meant to be a bit feel good :) I really hope I got this right <3
> 
> Warning: I guess technically you could say there's under-negotiated kink but it's very minor and I think it's pretty obvious that there are no risks involved :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the wait guys! Especially when I really wanted to post this chapter right after the last one because it continues on where the other one left off. However the past two weeks have been an absolute whirlwind. I won't go into details but I've been so stressed and unhappy, I could barely make it through the day, let alone finish writing this chapter. I'm the kind of writer who can only write when I'm in a certain mood. I just don't feel inspired when I'm in that state. I did try to write but I deleted pages upon pages because I hated everything I was coming up with. I did get there though. Finally. 
> 
> I'm dedicating this chapter to Robin even though he's not featured. I hope he rests in peace, another angel in the boy's lives lost far too soon :( My thoughts are with Anne, Harry and Gemma <3

_Al Green – Stay Together_

Making love to Harry doesn’t feel like _making_ love at all. They already have love between them. No one is more certain of than that Louis. Harry lays him out on their pillow fort, the first rays of sunlight bathing them both in gentle warmth and it doesn’t feel like they’re giving themselves to each other for the first time. It feels like they already have _._

Harry exhales heavily, looking like he might cry just at the _thought_ of Louis’ nakedness.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe I get to worship this body.” He whispers, butting his head up against Louis’ stomach.

His fingers trail gently over Louis’ side, just grazing his scar. That little hint of _something_ is enough to make Louis flinch and start to pull away.

“Don’t, don’t hide from me.” Harry whispers, pushing his forehead against Louis’ side. “You’re beautiful, Lou. Don’t you feel it?”

“I—“ He swallows thickly, painfully. “You want to touch me _there_?”

Harry presses his lips to the raised skin beneath Louis’ hip bone, holding his eyes. His touch is ever so gentle, breath fanning out across that one patch of skin that’s never been touched. The one patch of skin on Louis’ body that’s never been cherished or worshipped the way Harry is worshipping it now.

“I want to touch you here.” Harry ghosts his mouth over Louis’ scar. “I want to touch you _everywhere_.”

There are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, like the chance to touch Louis is some kind of miraculous gift _._ Louis does his best to stop it. The crying, he means. Not the worshipping.

“We’re really going to have sex in a public place?” He jokes, trying to banish the lump from his throat. “In the back of a car, no less. What are we, horny teenagers?”

“Yes,” Harry splutters a laugh, wiping the corners of his eyes. “I’m so horny for you baby.”

He goes in for the kiss but Louis pushes him away with a single finger, valiantly ignoring that adorable pout.

“I’m flattered babe, honestly I am but please never say that again. It’s a boner killer, if ever I heard one.”

That seems to distract Harry too much for them to even carry out a proper conversation anymore. His eyes are drawn to Louis’ cock, standing to attention.

“That’s…” He looks overwhelmed, reaching down to adjust himself inside his jeans. “You know I think it likes me.”

“My dick?” Louis giggles, reaching down to give it a little jerk. “Well I suppose your right Styles. Would you look at that?”

Harry is definitely staring. Swallowing convulsively, he stretches himself out over Louis’ body, pressing down until their groins touch. Louis’ toes curl into the blanket.

“Fuck,” he moans. “I can feel you through your jeans.”

“I know baby.” Harry smirks, _that cocky fucker_. “Does it feel good?”

“Kiss me.” He growls. “Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

So Harry does, lowering his arms down beside Louis’ head. He kisses him like the taste of happiness swims in his lips. Their lips make soft wet sounds together, tongues tangling in between. Usually, the sound of it might repulse Louis but Harry’s tongue is like this little miracle thing, working its magic on him bit by bit. All he can think of is how turned on he is and how much he wants Harry’s cock inside of him. The thought of it makes him moan into the kiss, pushing his toes up against Harry’s shins and grinding their cocks together roughly.

“Fuck Lou.” Harry swears against his neck, mouthing up the underside of his jaw. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Louis pants, shoving Harry t-shirt up around his armpits.

“What are you—oh.” Harry cries out as Louis latches onto one of his nipples, tweaking the other one with his fingers. “Christ, your tongue is wicked.”

“Damn straight,” Louis pulls back, gazing at his work.

The skin around Harry’s nipple is flushed pink from all the attention. It has Louis smirking back at him proudly.

“Look at you,” Harry grins, pulling him closer. “All proud of yourself.”

Louis nods, chuckling as Harry drags him into another kiss. It gets steamy quickly what with Harry pulling him up against his own body and scratching at his lower back. Louis moans into the kiss.

“Love kissing you,” Harry murmurs, sucking a kiss into his jaw. “Want to kiss you forever.”

Louis tilts his head up, sighing as Harry makes his way down his neck.

“I s’pose I’ll let you,” he moans. “You can kiss me forever if you want.”

Harry growls at that and bites along the edges of his collarbones.

“Harry!” He laughs. “What am I going to tell my mum when I go see her? She’s going to think I’m dating Edward Cullen.”

“Lou.” His eyes twinkle brightly. “Have you seen Twilight?”

“My sisters forced me,” Louis lies. “And that is so not the point.”

Harry chuckles. Lowering himself down, he blows a raspberry into Louis’ belly button.

“Love your belly button,” he coos, ridiculously reverent. “You don’t have to tell her anything, just wear a scarf. Or you know. You could, um…” He trails off, eyes wide.

“I could, um?”

“Take me with you,” He says quickly. “That ought to clear up any questions.”

“You want to meet my mum?” Louis stares at him. “Already?”

“Well, you’ve met my mum. It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“Are you saying you’re _jealous_ that I’ve met your mum and you haven’t met mine?” Louis chokes out.

“Well…yeah.” He looks befuddled. “Lou, why do you look like you’re about to cry? Are you worried about me meeting your family? Because you shouldn’t be. I’m very charming.”

“I know,” Louis laughs, eyes moist. “That’s not it, you dork. I just…I can’t believe you’re volunteering for this. My boyfriend wants to meet my family.”

“Your boyfriend,” Harry echoes, grinning like mad. “That’s the first time you’ve said that.”

His eyes drop to Harry’s hands. He latches onto Harry’s thumb, twisting it back and forth.

“Well you are, aren’t you?” He checks, breathing a bit more rapidly. “We’re dating now?”

“We are.” Harry agrees. Wrapping a hand around the nape of Louis’ neck, he brings him in for a kiss. “I’m going to date the fuck out of you.”

Louis snorts, giggling quietly when Harry’s lips trace their way over the veins in his neck.

“You’re an idiot. I don’t know why I cry over you.”

“You’re a crier.” Harry tells him, grin irritatingly smug. “You can’t help yourself when you’re around me.”

Louis glowers at him, pulling his neck away.

“I’m sorry baby.” He chuckles, not looking very sorry at all. “Don’t be mad. I like that about you, it means I get to cuddle you and make you feel all better.”

“Styles.” Louis quirks an eyebrow. “Are you saying you _like_ it when I cry?”

“How bout I show you.”

“Show me?” He laughs. ‘What’re you going to do, make me cry?”

“Yes.” Harry says, with no signs of joking. Tenderly, he takes hold of Louis’ thighs, parting them gently. “Now I’m going to lick you out, if that’s okay.”

“Fuck,” Louis throws his head back. “I am so okay with that.”

Harry lies down between his legs, tracing a gentle circle around his rim.

“Lube,” he mumbles. “I wonder if they…”

He reaches around Louis into the glove box and sure enough his hand comes away with a supersized bottle of lube, price sticker still attached.

“You planned this?” Louis wonders aloud, not particularly bothered.

“No!” Harry shouts, blushing furiously. “I mean… I had an argument with the boys about it. They _insisted_ on providing lube. I wasn’t sure if they’d actually gone through with it or not.”

“Well lucky for us, they have.”

“Lucky for us,” Harry agrees, leaning in for another kiss.

Their lips brush a couple of times, catching and holding every time. Harry pulls back with an indulgent sigh. Laying back down between Louis’ thighs, he blows cold air onto his hole, watching the way it winks, tensing around nothing.

“Ready?” He asks, pale fingertips gliding up and down the goosebumps that litter the insides of Louis’ thighs. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not.”

“I’m ready.” Louis tells him, giving his cock a few hard jerks just to prove it. “I’m hard as fuck.”

“Welcome to my world, babe. I’ve been hard as fuck since the day I met you,” Harry curses, gripping his legs tightly. “Now _, these_ go around my head.”

Louis’ cock bleats out precome. His heartbeat turns erratic. Gently, he wraps his legs around Harry’s head, keeping them loose enough so as not to hurt him.

“Not tight enough,” Harry scolds, lips quirked. “But I’ll earn it, if I have to.”

With that, he licks a wet stripe up Louis’ rim and plunges his tongue right in. Cursing loudly, Louis grips the blanket between shaking fingers, squeezing it desperately.

“Give a man some warning Styles!”

“I did.” Harry smirks. “You said you were ready.”

“Fair point,” Louis lays his head back down, chest heaving. “I just don’t think I’d ever be quite ready for that.”

Harry smirks at him dirtily, then thrusts his tongue back inside. After a few minutes spent swirling his tongue around and thrusting it upwards, he inserts a finger, twisting it idly. Louis groans and thrusts his hips down onto the intrusion, begging for more.

“Another,” he groans. “Harry, please.”

The flat of Harry’s tongue trails the inside of his arse, leaving him deliciously wet. Harry pulls his finger out, watching Louis with a ravenous glint in his eye. He coats two fingers in lube and pushes them back inside, searching for Louis’ spot. He finds it quickly, jamming his fingers up against it, watching with rapt attention as Louis goes wild.

“Fuck yes.” He keens, arching up into it. His legs snap closed around Harry’s head, keeping both his tongue and fingers trapped inside. “Right there.”

Harry moans, thrusting his fingers into Louis at a rapid pace. Louis’ hips circle them tightly, trying to direct them where he wants them with every thrust. Harry’s moan shifts into a growl. He slows his thrusts, gently rubbing over Louis’ sweet spot instead. His tongue circles Louis’ rim, coating him in moisture, pushing that moisture inside every single time it starts to drip.

“Oh fuck, Harry.” He moans, thighs trembling. “I’m gonna come.”

“Not yet baby,” Harry orders, fingers still nailing his spot.

“Harry—“ Louis’ plea turns into a wail and Harry shoves his tongue back inside. “I can’t, I can’t last any longer.” He cries.

Harry pushes even closer, tongue flicking out to graze Louis’ prostate.

“Oh, oh _fuck_.” Louis bites into the flesh of his arm, tears gathering. “Harry, please. I need to---“

“No,” Harry roars. Pulling his fingers out, he coats another one with lube. “Just give me one more minute baby. You’re doing so well.”

Louis whimpers at that and Harry pushes his fingers back inside, scissoring them gently. With more verbal encouragement from Louis, he slams them into his prostate, keeping them there until Louis sees stars.

“Can’t—“ he shouts, tears dripping from his closed eyelids. “Harry!”

He doesn’t come but it’s a near thing. Harry pulls his fingers out just as he reaches the precipice, pressing his open mouth to Louis’ rim in some kind of weird misdirected apology.

“Harry, please.” He whimpers. “Please let me come.”

His legs are downright trembling now and they feel like absolute jelly. His cock is leaking steadily, flushed bright pink with arousal.

“You’re so beautiful Lou.” Harry rubs the outsides of his thighs, lowering them from around his neck. “You did so well, I’m so proud of you baby.”

He kisses Louis’ cries quiet, cupping his face and drying his tears with the tips of his thumbs.

“You look so good right now.” He sighs, pulling away just to gaze at him more intently. “You’re the most beautiful person in the world, Louis. I can’t even stand it.”

Louis still feels a little spaced out but after several tries at a deep breath, he raises his hands to Harry’s jaw.

“I love you,” he breathes, tears still dampening his cheeks. “You make me crazy. You made me cry.”

“Told you I would,” Harry grins, joining his lips to Louis’. “Was my pleasure, gorgeous boy.”

Louis blinks back at him, shocked. He’s trying to comprehend how he got so damn lucky.

“Trade places with me.” He says quickly. “I want to make you feel good too.”

Louis’ never seen him move so quickly. Chuckling to himself, he watches as Harry offers a slightly sheepish grin in return.

“Wanted your mouth on me from the first moment I saw you.” He admits, hastily shucking his clothes off. “It’s kind of like a dream come true.”

Louis would like to respond but he can’t. He’s too busy taking in the naked masterpiece before him.

“You’re. I’m…”

He can’t stop staring at Harry’s nakedness. His cock is so thick and perfect. It appears to be just the right amount of veiny.  His shoulders are impressively broad and connected to biceps as big as Louis’ thighs, if not bigger. There’s the contrast between his soft, grabbable love handles and those washboard abs, both just crying out to be bitten and marked up by Louis’ mouth. His eyes keep coming back to Harry’s cock though, helpless not to stare.

“Is it always that big?”

“Well it’s hard now.” Harry smirks. Fisting it slowly, he lies down on his back. “Hard for you. It’s pretty big though, yeah.”

Louis slaps his side.

“Stop smirking at me like you’re some smarmy frat boy and I’m your next conquest. We’re in love.”

Harry throws his head back, laughing then makes a cheeky grab for Louis, catching hold of him, even as he tries to squirm away.

“Yes, baby I know.” He kisses both of Louis’ cheeks, his nose and then finally, his lips. “I’m going to marry you someday.”

“Fuck you Styles.” Louis huffs. “You can’t just _say_ things like that. We just started dating and I’m…I’m fucked up. I’m not ready for that kind of—“

“Shh.” Harry soothes him. “I know you’re not ready _now_ , but someday you will be. You’re going to go back to therapy and I’m going to be there waiting to take you home after every session. But whatever happens Lou, I need you to know you’re not fucked up. You’re not broken just because you’ve been through hell.”

“You want me to go back to therapy?”  

_Been there, done that._

“Yes.” Harry says firmly, refusing to look away. “But I want you to _want_ to go too. I can’t force you to and I’m not going to leave you if you don’t.”

“But?”

“But if there’s anything you’ve taught me this past eight months, it’s that there are some things that are just too big to conquer on your own. I love you Louis, you know that. That means I can’t bear to see you hurting. I’ll be there for you no matter what baby but I think you need to do this. I think it could help.”

Louis pushes their foreheads together, breath caught in his throat.

“I want to,” he says, voice gone all husky. “For you, I want to. I just hate how it makes me feel. As if I’m down for the count or something, like I’ll never get back up. I hate how others see me because of it. They look at me like I’m incomplete. As if I can’t really be a whole person again until my therapy’s over.”

“Is that why you quit before?” Harry’s hand is soft against the back of his neck, fingers shifting downwards to caress the knobs of his spine. “You wanted people to see you were okay?”

“Sort of.” He nudges their noses together, inhaling Harry’s scent. “But I think I wanted to prove it to myself even more. I was sure that if I could just get here, if I could just _get_ to uni, I would be okay. I thought maybe it was just living in the place where it happened and not being allowed to leave. I couldn’t escape it, you know? I just wanted to escape.”

“But you can’t.” Harry says, pressing his thumbs into Louis’ cheekbones. “It’s always going to be with you. Whether you’re in therapy or not, that’s never going to change. You’re never going to be able to erase it from your past or make the pain of it disappear. But you can get better. You can change how it affects you. Being in therapy doesn’t mean you’re not complete, it doesn’t have to mean that you’re not okay. It just means you recognise that you need help sometimes and that getting help is more important than what other people think. It’s more important than being able to prove how alright you are.”

“You’re right,” Louis whispers. “I’m going to go back there, I will. I just need you to promise me something first.”

“Yeah love?” Harry’s lips hover over his, not quite touching.

“Promise you’ll come with me.” He begs, opening his eyes up into Harry’s.

Harry’s brown line deepens.

“I don’t know if they’ll let me darling. I mean, won’t that be kind of detrimental? You might be afraid to say what you’re thinking with me there.”

“What?” Louis takes hold of his neck, keeping Harry’s gaze locked on his even as he fights to get away. “Harry, _stop_. I’m not afraid to say anything in front of you. Not anymore. You make me _less_ afraid, okay? When I’m not with you, I’m weaker. Is that so wrong? Is it wrong Haz? Cause you make me strong. You make me feel so fucking brave inside.”

Harry looks like he might be crying but it’s hard to tell from this close up. His lips come down hard against Louis’.

“It’s not wrong,” he says, stroking Louis’ cheeks. “I love being the one to take care of you. I love knowing you need me but one day Lou, you won’t. Not for this. And I’ll be okay with that too. I’ll be so bloody proud to see you walk into that doctor’s office alone.”

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” Louis’ cheeks ache from smiling. “Let me show you just how much.”

Harry lets out a noise of assent and lies back down on the pillows, watching Louis with bated breath. Louis starts with his shoulders, kneading them roughly. Harry moans in reply, tension draining right out of him. Louis moves onto his chest, dragging his mouth back and forth over his nipples, sucking them into his mouth and rolling them around his tongue until the boy beneath him cries out.

“Please Lou.” He begs. “I’m desperate.”

And isn’t he just? Whimpering prettily as Louis takes his time sucking marks into those deliciously curvy hips and mouthing over those impressively defined abdominals. Finally, he reaches Harry’s groin, slowly nosing up his thighs just to tease. His hand drifts down to cup Harry’s balls, fondling them gently.

“So good.” Harry hums as one of his hands slides its way into Louis’ hair. “Feels so good baby.”

Louis grins at him from beneath his lashes and lowers himself down enough to take one of Harry’s balls into his mouth, circling his tongue around it slowly.

“ _Oh_.” Harry grips his hair tight.

Louis lets him go with a wet pop, taking his cock in hand. He jerks it a few times, watching the blood rush to the tip, enjoying the way it leaks sticky precome into his palm.

“You have a pretty cock,” Louis compliments him, taking said cock into his mouth.

“S—shit.” Harry swears, instinctively rocking his hips up against Louis’ mouth. “S-sorry,” he stutters. “Sorry babe.”

Louis shakes his head, gripping his hips in an effort to encourage him.

“Are you s---“ Harry’s eyes are wide as Louis deepthroats him from above. “Fuck—okay, you’re sure.”

His hips start to jerk up, eyelids fluttering closed each and every time his dick nudges the back of Louis’ throat. His hands tug urgently at Louis’ hair, making him moan just as loudly. Harry’s groans fill his ears, arousal quickening his pace. He drops his mouth down against Harry’s pelvis, swallowing around the intrusion. A few moments later, Harry wrenches him away with a gasp.

“Fuck, I can’t—“ he pants harshly, pupils blown wide. “Need to fuck you now, Lou.”

“Yes,” Louis’ rasps. “Please.”

“Your poor voice.” Harry gathers his cheeks up into his palms, kissing him sweetly. “Are you okay, love?”

“I’m brilliant,” Louis chuckles, pushing him back onto the car floor. “I’d be even better if you were inside me.”

Harry chokes on whatever he was about to say, cheeks flaming.

“Don’t we—we need a condom.”

“I’m clean,” Louis promises. He trusts Harry implicitly. He trusts him more than he’s ever trusted anyone in his life. “You?”

“C-clean.” Harry stutters.

“Brilliant.” Louis pushes his legs apart, quickly straddling his waist. “You know,” he says, keeping his tone conversational. “I had a couple of horse riding lessons when I was younger. I wasn’t very good at it, didn’t show any kind of natural aptitude for show jumping. But you know what they did say?”

“What?” Harry’s eyes are bright with lust.

Louis grabs hold of his cock, dragging it back and forth between his cheeks. It’s dripping wet, more than enough lubrication for them both.

“They said with hips like mine, I’d make a good jockey.”

He winks, swivelling his hips around until the head of Harry’s cock catches on his rim. They both moan when Louis sinks down, Harry’s cock penetrating him fully.

“Shit.” He takes hold of Louis’ hips, expression quaking. “You feel like silk, Louis.”

Louis tenses a bit, trying to shift down further.

“Fuck you’re huge, Haz. I’ll be lucky if I can still walk after this.”

Harry presses his thumbs to Louis’ hips, trying to still him.

“You don’t have to take it all.” He assures him, eyes wide with concern. Gone is the cocky frat boy, replaced by this ridiculously protective idiot, Louis loves so much. “I’m fine with this.”

“I don’t want you to feel _fine_ ,” Louis snipes, because he can’t help it. “I want you to feel amazing. Now just give me a second, would you?”

He lowers himself down another inch, holding his breath as his eyes start to water.

“Lou—“ Harry tries.

The pity in his eyes is enough to inspire Louis to new heights. Or new depths, really. He sinks down onto Harry’s cock, impaling himself within moments. It hurts like a bitch but it’s worth it just to see Harry’s sharp intake of breath. It’s worth it to watch him fight the waves of pleasure stealing over his entire body.

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” Harry tells him, eyebrows scrunched with pleasure. “You didn’t have to prove me wrong.”

“Shut up. You feel good.” Louis says truthfully, swivelling his hips just right. “I feel so full right now.”

Harry moans at that, lifting his hips up in order to push his dick further into Louis’ hole.

“Yeah, just like that.” Louis tells him.

He rocks his hips down against Harry’s thrusts, swirling his hips around in an effort to find it. His sweet spot. After a few unsuccessful attempts, Harry’s dick finally meets his prostate head on.

“Fuck, yes.” He growls, rocking back and forth on Harry’s member. “Fuck me. Please Haz.”

“I’ll fuck you baby,” Harry rasps, fucking up into Louis. “I’ll fuck you until you’re mine.”

“Already yours.” Louis pants, running his hands over his own body.

It seems to spur Harry on who moans lowly and increases his efforts, lifting him up and then slamming him back down onto his cock.  Louis happily bounces up and down, clenching his rim every single time Harry enters him and toying with his own nipples.

“You’re so fucking pretty right now.” Harry rambles. “Such pretty nipples, Lou.”

He holds onto Louis with an iron clad grip, pressing finger shaped bruises into his hipbones.

“Fuck Harry,” Louis groans, starting to slow. “Need you to help me. This isn’t—I need you to fuck me proper.”

“Okay baby,” Harry slides out of him, basically throwing him down against the pillows. “Legs up.”

Louis obeys, throwing his legs up onto Harry’s shoulders and squirming impatiently. Harry runs his hands up from the base of his thighs to the starts of his ankles, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to one of this ankle bones.

“Love your cute little ankles,” He mumbles. “Love how someone with such a big personality could be as precious and as tiny as you.”

“Shut the hell up.” Louis glares. “Shut the hell up and fuck me.”

Harry grins, pressing another kiss to his ankle before directing his cock back into Louis’ hole. He presses inside quickly, thrusting deep right off the bat. The angle is insane. With every thrust, he’s driving right into Louis’ prostate, sending earth shattering waves of pleasure right through his body. It feels like shocks of lightning racing towards his groin and it’s a minute or so of this before Louis feels his orgasm approach. His legs start to quiver. Falling away from Harry’s shoulders, they circle his waist instead. Harry doesn’t seem to mind. He scoots closer, driving into him deeper, his eyes as dark as Louis’ ever seen them.

“Fuck Haz! Need you to. I need to---come,” Louis moans, eyelashes fluttering.

Harry leans in close, dragging his lips over Louis’, not really kissing him at all.

“Going to show you something,” He breathes roughly. “Something I noticed the first time we kissed.”

Louis shudders at that, completely unprepared for whatever it is Harry’s about to do. Harry slams into him relentlessly, reaching for Louis’ hands tangled in the blankets beneath them. He thinks Harry’s going to hold them which, while sweet, is not altogether orgasm inducing.

He’s wrong. Harry’s hands form manacles around his wrists, forcing them down into the cushions. He holds Louis’ gaze, driving into him harder just as Louis’ pleasure starts to crest over his head. His muscles go taut with anticipation, body climbing towards that irresistible peak. Then Harry squeezes his wrists tight and Louis sees stars. His cock starts jerking against his stomach, fighting for attention. Harry grabs hold of it, flicking his wrist just right and Louis comes with a guttural moan. The pleasure comes crashing down over his head in waves of pure, indulgent sensation, his orgasm rocketing through his body. From the tops of his reddened ears to the tips of his toes, stretched out in a full flex.

“Harry,” he cries out, whimpering when he looks down at his collarbones, only to find them all painted in white. “Harry, _fuck_.”

He shudders from another aftershock, legs still racked by tremors.

“Good baby?” Harry pants, face tensing up with need. “You feel so good around me, Lou. So tight.”

“Come inside me.” Louis begs, tears sliding down his cheeks. “I love you, Harry. I want everything with you.”

That seems to do it for Harry who drives his hips home one last time before coming inside Louis with a shout. Wetness floods Louis’ insides and the sensation is not altogether unpleasant

“Shit,” Harry whispers, stuttering his hips forward. “Never been with anyone like this before.”

“Bare, you mean?”

“Yeah.” His eyes are wet when they meet Louis’, a look of total wonder in his eyes. “Wouldn’t have felt right with anyone but you.”

“Harry,” He mewls, pressing a shaky hand against his eye, “Harry, come here.”

Harry crawls up beside him, pulling Louis into his arms.

“Baby, are you okay?” He rubs Louis’ arms soothingly, gingerly cupping the back of his head. “Do you…I mean, do you regret it?”

“What? No!” Louis pulls him into a fierce kiss, tears quickly dying away. “God, no. I’m just so…overwhelmed. The way you made me feel, Harry. No one’s ever made me feel so…”

“So?”

“Safe.” Louis says, pressing his fingers into Harry’s hands. Harry holds them tightly, looking down at him in awe. “Not since everything happened. I’ve never felt like I could give up control, not really but with you, the wrist thing—I mean, how did you—“

“I know you like it when someone else leads,” Harry smiles at him adoringly. Louis can see it now that his eyes aren’t clouded by denial. “You like to give up control. You just need somebody you can trust.”

“I do trust you.” Louis smiles. “I love you.”

“I know.”

Harry reaches behind him to grab something. It’s the necklace. The one Harry gave to him, the one he so rudely left behind.

“I want it back,” He bursts out. “I mean…” he blushes. “If you want me to.”

“I want you to.” Harry murmurs, “of course I do.” He gently draws the chain around Louis’ neck. Once done up, he settles it against Louis’ chest. “It belongs with you.”

“Just like you.” Louis squeezes the paper plane. “You belong with me.”

“Sap,” Harry accuses. “Who knew. Louis Tomlinson is a total _sucker_ for his boyfriend.”

“Oh fuck off.” Louis laughs. “You’re the one who’s been looking after me since before we even met.”

“I’m going to tell our babies all about it someday.” Harry giggles, pressing his lips to Louis’.

“Babies,” He shakes his head. “Styles, you’re way too optimistic.”

“No.” Harry runs his fingers through Louis’ sex hair, smoothing it back into place. “I’m not optimistic Lou, I’m _certain_. I don’t know where we’re going Lou, but I know that we belong. I’m so sorry your friends died Lou, you have no idea but I’m not sorry you didn’t. I’m not sorry you lived through it or that you fought to stay alive. If you didn’t, I wouldn’t have you now. Worse still, _the world_ wouldn’t have you now and that’s just not a world I’m willing to live in. Because a world without you, Louis, is like a world without sunshine and I need that. I need you, my little ray of sunshine.”

Louis pushes their lips together, smiling into it.

“I’m glad I lived too.” He says quietly and for the first time in a long time, there’s no need to lie. “I’ve never been so glad about anything in my life.”

Harry cuddles him close, kissing every inch of skin he can reach. Louis falls asleep with rose petal lips pressed to his shoulder and something even more beautiful flowering inside his chest. It’s been a long time. He’s not actually sure if he remembers this feeling correctly. He does know that whatever’s coursing through him right now, it feels a lot like wildfire. It feels like waking up from a bad nightmare and never having that same one again. It feels, shockingly enough, like hope.

*-*-*

_James Bay – Move Together_

Louis is properly engaging with their cat, the same way Harry does every day. It's the epitome of cuteness. Or it would be, if he weren't fielding suggestions about the best and most awful way to break up with Harry.  
  
"Well I think that's a bit much Moo." He says, flicking his eyes over to Harry, narrowing them just slightly. "He did give me mind blowing sex in the back of a car."  
  
Harry can't help it. He puffs out his chest a little, a quiet smirk gracing his lips. He’d very much like to be giving Louis mind blowing sex right now. He looks like sin today in form fitting white jeans and a tight maroon shirt. It sits just low enough on his chest to show off those edible collarbones. Or at least, Harry thinks they're edible. He's been trying to prove exactly that to Louis for the past month, much to his constant ire. He balances it out by taking him on cute dinner dates every weekend and rubbing his little feet whenever they get sore. Despite the fact that it's Louis' stupid fault for wearing such poorly made shoes all the time. Vans aren't made to support such fragile things as Louis' feet.

 _But they make my feet look pretty Harold_. He always says, in that same defiant tone with that same adorably stroppy look. _Your feet always look pretty Lou_ , Harry will assure him, _especially your cute little ankles_. He knows it only ever earns him a scornful look and a roll of his boyfriend's pretty blue eyes. It's worth it when Harry kisses him roughly and Louis whimpers needily into his mouth. Always sighing so happily when Harry whispers in his ear, " _I love you boo. You’re beautiful every single minute, of every single day to me._ "  
  
The past month has been one of the best of Harry's life. If not, _the_ best. All because of this brat of a boy staring him down right now with baleful eyes.  
  
"No, you're right Moo. Sex in the back of car is so.... _high school_."  
  
Louis nuzzles his head down into Moo's, lips curling happily when their kitten nuzzles him back.

_Adorable._

"Too high school, huh?" He quirks an eyebrow. "Was it too high school for you when I threw your legs over my shoulders and fucked you until they shook?"  
  
Louis' face is devoid of any emotion but there's concentrated creases all over his forehead and a slight shake to his bottom lip. He's trying way too hard.

"I think someone in this room thinks way too much of himself, Moo." He sighs, disdainful, then buries his nose in their kitten's fur. "No buddy, it isn't you. You make me far happier than he ever could."

Now Harry knows that's bullshit for several reasons. The first being; Harry was there when Louis told his mum exactly how happy Harry makes him. Jay had chuckled and offered Harry a tissue which he gratefully took. He honestly couldn’t help the tears. It was beyond emotional hearing Louis utter the words, "he makes me feel excited to be alive again. I want to live for _myself_ mum, not just them."

Harry knows he makes Louis happier than anyone else because even now that Harry’s become the live-in boyfriend, Louis stills seeks him out. He seeks him out in between lectures and after class, dragging Harry off to the nearest quiet room so that they can make out like crazy and get each other off like the horny teenagers they’ve become.

He seeks Harry out on the weekends that they spend apart, visiting their families separately for fear of being that couple that can't even survive five minutes without each other. It probably doesn't say much for their stamina that they end up skyping each other throughout and not necessarily for sex either. Sometimes Louis just wants to hear his voice and Harry just wants to see him nursing both of his new baby siblings, one cradled in each arm. Sometimes Harry can't help but pretend the younger twins are theirs. Especially when Louis will hold them up to the camera and repeat Harry’s name over and over, trying to make it their first word. They might only be a few weeks old but Louis’ convinced they’re both tiny geniuses.  
  
Louis seeks him out at night when the nightmares come calling, which they usually do. The difference now is that the strategies he employs usually wake him up. It's a good thing, Doctor David tells them both. It means Louis' brain is finally registering the fact that it's just a dream, one that needs to be laid to rest. It may be a little more real than most dreams because it is a real moment in Louis' past but his brain is starting to accept that that's all it is. A memory. So he wakes up now, on his own, struggling into Harry's arms as if Harry isn't desperate to hold him the minute he starts making noises.

It's comforting, holding Louis while he cries, watching the fight slowly leave his body. Harry waits for the moment when his heart rate finally slows and his eyelids start to droop. When Louis finally slips under, he lays a kiss on his forehead and covers Louis’ body with his own. It’s miraculous, watching him fall into a deep, peaceful slumber, undisturbed by his demons. It's progress of the best kind. But in those moments of terror, in the midst of that horrific shock Louis must feel upon waking, he still seeks Harry out.

It tells Harry that he’s achieving his number one goal. He's making Louis happy. Every day he’s successfully showing the love of his life that good things are possible and that the best kind of changes are usually the ones we never see coming. The best days are the same as the worst ones, they’re the kinds of days we can’t prepare for. Harry’s proving to Louis that the unexpected can be a uniquely challenging and beautiful gift. The people that we fall in love with are the ones we don’t expect to change our lives until they do. Harry prides himself on being one of those.

"I make you happy." Harry tells him, piercing Louis with the intensity of his look. "I make you, Louis Tomlinson, happy. I make you almost as happy as you make me. Almost but not quite. I am, without a doubt, the luckiest man in this room."

Louis' expression flickers with doubt. He wants to give in. There's reticence in his eyes and perhaps even remorse. Yet that stubborn, slightly self-loathing side of him wins out.

"I don't care." He tells Moo, turning away from Harry's pleading look. "I don't care about stupid boyfriends and their stupid plans to fix me. Don't they know I can't be fixed, Moo?"

“I’m not trying to fix you, Louis. You can’t fix something that’s not broken.”

“Well what the hell are you trying to do?” Louis’ rage fuelled look cuts him to the quick. “I didn’t ask you to call him. I didn’t ask you to set up a meeting.”

“I know.” He makes his way across the room. Crouching down beside Louis, he cups his face and smooths his fingers across Louis’ stubbled jaw. They make a home for themselves in the soft skin behind his ears. “But I wanted to help you. I thought if I could just get you to take the first step, you’d see how much good it could do you.”

Louis’ face twitches sideways into his palm. Bathed in the glow of early morning sunlight, his inky black eyelashes share the same golden hue as his caramel toned fringe. It’s a stunning contrast between that and the piercing blue of his eyes. They cut through all that sunshine, standing out against his honeyed skin.

“I appreciate you.” Louis says with a steady voice. “I. Appreciate. You.”

Harry can tell how hard it is for him. It’s something they’ve been working on the past few weeks, in partnership with Louis’ therapist. Harry’s been trying to coddle Louis less. According to the doctor, it can be stifling. Especially for someone as determined to be independent as Louis. In return, Louis is making an effort to be more understanding of the fact that Harry genuinely does enjoy taking care of him. He does his best to remember that accepting help from Harry doesn’t mean admitting weakness, nor does it make him less of a partner to Harry than Harry is to him.

It’s a constant struggle, for the both of them but Harry feels very fortunate to have met someone so fiercely determined to make their own way in the world. He admires Louis for it, even when he doesn’t understand it. He loves him for it even when it drives him up the wall. Louis is a fighter, he’s a scrappy street fighter and Harry does his best just to keep him from the worst of his brawls. To bandage his fists and stitch his wounds. That’s Harry’s job. Damage Control.

“I appreciate that you did what you thought what was best for me because you love me.”  Louis offers a tremulous smile. “I love you for that, I do. But Harry I’m not your damsel in distress anymore. I’m doing okay. Even Doctor Dick said so.”

Harry rolls his eyes, stroking the hair that sits just behind Louis’ ears. It’s his weak spot, proven by the fact that he mewls quietly, tilting his face even further into Harry’s palm. Like an attention starved kitten. Like Moo, who’s currently crawling all over Louis’ legs trying to find the softest spot for a nap

“I really wish you wouldn’t call him that. Doctor David is a lovely man.”

“A lovely man?” Louis quirks an eyebrow, lips pursed. “Would you rather be dating him instead?”

“Stop it,” He chuckles, catching Louis’ lips in a soft kiss. His tongue darts out briefly, teasing Louis with just the tip. “You’re trying to distract me with ridiculous accusations. How could I ever dream of kissing someone else’s lips when I get to kiss yours?”

Louis whines at the slow drag of it. Sliding his fingers into Harry’s hair, he pulls him back into another kiss, deeper this time. He makes use of all his best weaponry too; scratching at Harry’s scalp with his short, sharp fingernails and forcing their lips against each other like there’s secrets to be exchanged between them. Louis’ little shaky breaths do stupid things to Harry’s heart, the feel of him chasing Harry’s tongue back into his mouth has an invigorating effect on his cock.

“And now you’re trying to distract me with dirty kisses.” He pants, sinking his nails into Louis’ waist.

“Is it working?” Louis breathes, high pitched like a whimper.

“I love kissing you.” Harry groans, biting at Louis’ lower lip. “You know how much I love kissing you.”

“So we’re good?” Louis checks.

His big blue eyes are like two little laser beams permanently locked on Harry’s mouth. His pupils are almost as big as gumballs, dilated as they are. He looks so pretty like this, unfairly so.

“No.” Harry huffs a laugh. “We’re not good. We haven’t actually solved anything. Look, I know you don’t strictly need me anymore. You can face this big, bad world on your own. You did it before you me and if anything should ever happen…” Louis’ face tenses up. “I know you’d be just fine without me.”

“No.” Louis’ eyebrows crinkle. His mouth tightens into a sad little pucker. “No, I wouldn’t be ‘just fine’ without you, you _arse_. Don’t say that. Don’t ever--” his voice cracks. “Don’t you ever leave me, Harry Styles.”

“I wouldn’t.” Harry pushes his forehead against Louis’, cupping his jaw protectively. “I wouldn’t ever leave you by _choice,_ Lou. But I can’t promise you that we won’t ever be apart. I can’t promise the future. But you would be Louis, you would be just fine. You know how I know that?”

“How?” Louis asks, voice small.

“Because,” He smiles, stroking along Louis’ cheek. “That’s why you’re fighting me so hard on this. That’s why you won’t let me lead you where you know you need to go. You want to fight for yourself. You don’t want me to fight for you. If anything should ever happen to me, if fate should ever get between us…I know, baby. I know you would be okay. You’re too strong not to be.”

“You don’t get it.” Louis shakes his head. Teardrops drip down his golden eyelashes, sliding their way down his cheek to coat the back of Harry’s hand. “I’m not worried about that. I’m not worried about whether or not I could fight this on my own. I’m not worried about missing therapy appointments or curling up in my bed feeling like I want to die because I’m the one they left here. I _would_ go to my therapy appointments, I _would_ get up out of my big comfy bed every day and live like it matters. I _would_ sleep through the night and I _would_ be okay. I’d be ‘just fine’, like you say. But Harry, fuck. If I couldn’t do this---” he presses a bruising kiss to Harry’s lips, inhaling against his cheekbone. “If I couldn’t look into your eyes,” he rasps, holding Harry’s burning gaze. “If I couldn’t hold these big dumb hands.” He laughs wetly, covering the hand on his jaw with his own. “If I couldn’t hear you tell me you love me, every day for the rest of my life, I wouldn’t be ‘just fine’. I wouldn’t be okay. I would want to curl up in my bed and die, not because they left me here but because you did.”

“I wouldn’t.” He promises, chest heaving. “I would never give up the way I almost did back then but Harry, you have to understand. I may be a stubborn idiot trying to prove I can do all this without you but I _do_ need you Harry. I do need you here pushing me around all the time, trying to make me do good things for myself. It makes me see red sometimes, I can’t stand it when you tell me how to take care of myself, as if you know things about me that I don’t. But that’s okay. It’s okay because I love you so much and whenever you pull this bullshit, I’m reminded that you feel that way too. You must. I mean, how could anybody be this bloody bothersome if they didn’t love me a stupid amount?”

Harry sighs, rubbing his thumb over Louis’ cheek.

“I thought we were done with the big dramatic speeches.” He kisses Louis wetly, pouring all of his love into that one clumsy kiss. “I already told you I love you.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Louis’ mouth falls open. “I pour my heart out to you like we’re in a proper, embarrassing rom com and that’s all you have to say? That we’ve done this before?”

“Shut up.” Harry growls, sealing it with a kiss. “I love you. You’re impossible and I love you. You just took me off guard, is all. I was trying to be a good boyfriend. I was trying to tell you that I get it, you’re self-sufficient now. Then you come back with this crazy adorable speech about how you’d go crazy if you couldn’t kiss my lips and hold my big dumb hands.”

“They are big,” Louis pouts. “And dumb. Like you. My big, dumb boyfriend.”

Harry goes on as if he hadn’t spoken.

“And all I really wanted to tell you is that it’s okay not to need me. It’s okay to fight me when I try to act like you do. But, I still want you to meet the constable. He was there, he held you through the worst moment of your life. He can give you the kind of closure no one else can. I want you to give this a proper go because whether I know what’s best for you or not, you’re right about one thing. I do love you a stupid amount. All my effort goes into making you happy. It’s not about fixing you boo, because even if you were broken, it wouldn’t change the way that I feel. It’s about seeing you smile the way you deserve to. Making you happy makes me happy. As sappy and embarrassing as that is.

“Sometimes, I wish I wasn’t Noah building Allie her dream house without her ever asking for it. But you’re not engaged to another man and you haven’t forgotten who I am so I figure I’m still slightly better off. I figure it’s worth building the damn dream house because I know you’ll find your way inside eventually. You’ll find your way back to me.” He squeezes Louis’ cheek, catching another errant tear with his thumb. “I know you won’t make yourself miserable just to spite me. So I’m still going to try and look after you. I’m still going to tell you what’s best. And I’m still going to build you your dream house. You can fight me on it, that’s okay. Just know that when you’re ready to come inside, I’ll be waiting. I’d wait forever just to see you look at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”

“Harry.” Louis shakes his head, pressing his shaking hands to Harry’s chest. As if he’s not sure whether he wants to push him away or pull him closer. “You _are_ my dream house.”

“I love you.” Harry splays his fingers out across Louis’ cheeks, pulling him into a breathless kiss.

“Say it.” Louis smirks, waggling his eyebrows. “Say I’m a bird.”

Harry shakes his head, cackling.  “Stop! You’re not actually Allie.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Louis pouts, loosely slinging his arms up around Harry’s neck. “What I wouldn’t give to tongue kiss Ryan Gosling in the rain.”

“You’re a bird.” Harry kisses him, an obvious attempt at silencing him.

He continues to press his lips to Louis’ every single time he tries to reignite his Ryan Gosling fantasy out loud.

“We’re not finished, you jealous idiot.” Louis giggles, pushing him away.

Harry rolls his eyes, one part frustrated, two parts adoring.

“Fine.” He presses his forehead to Louis’, a signature touch between them. Reaching down, he grabs the paper plane that swings between their chests. “Baby. If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.”

Louis chuckles. He crawls into Harry’s lap and wraps his little legs around Harry’s waist. Harry runs his hands over his boyfriend’s toned thighs, making note of the way they tighten around him, keeping him trapped. It’s something to save to the wank bank. The wank bank he’s been building in case of an emergency. You know, for those times when Louis’ not around to wrap these killer thighs around his head.

“I’ll come meet the constable,” Louis agrees, “but you’ll have to carry me.”

He tilts his head, grinding down against Harry’s groin with a wicked smirk. Harry groans, squeezing his hips just to get him to stop.

“If you keep doing that, the only place I’ll be carrying you is to bed.”

“Mm,” Louis leans forward and nibbles at the edge of his jaw. “Now there’s an idea.”

“No.” Harry stands up, Louis still attached. He wobbles only ever so slightly. “We’re going.”

Louis presses his teeth to Harry’s pulse point, mouthing over his neck.

“You are _such_ a spoilsport.”

Harry shuts the door behind him, ignoring the other student’s stares. If Louis wants to be carried from A to B just for today, Harry’s going to do it. So what if it makes people look at him differently? He’s not whipped, he just gets breathless from Louis’ radiant smile. He loves seeing the glimmer of surprise on Louis’ face every single time he agrees to one of his ridiculous requests. It’s like Louis does it just to fuck with him and never actually expects him to say yes.

Harry enjoys humouring him because the fact that Louis doesn’t expect to be spoiled makes spoiling him all the more necessary. Not to mention, gratifying. It’s a bit like watching a kid with reading problems try on glasses for the first time. It’s that moment of discovery when they figure out that the only reason they couldn’t read before now is because they couldn’t see any of the words they were supposed to be reading. For the first time, it becomes clear to them that those blurry black shapes they were seeing were letters. Letters that can be distinguished from each other based on detail, rather than estimation.

All his life, Louis’ been staring at blurry shapes, wondering what they are, wondering why he’s the only one who can’t seem to make any sense of them. All his life, he’s assumed personal responsibility for the cruel ways other people have treated him. He let it define him because he was the one who couldn’t read. He was the one with the problem. Or so he thought. But now, now Harry has given him glasses and for the first time in his life, Louis can _see_.

He can see the difference between his past relationships and the one he has with Harry now. He can see that being struck by tragedy isn’t something he could have fixed or prevented. It isn’t his problem, it isn’t his fault and it will never be his burden to bear. It’s certainly not an excuse for him to be loved any less than anybody else. He sees that now, or at least Harry thinks he does. On his good days, he sees that. He sees that not everybody learns to read in the same way. Some kids take longer. Some kids need more encouragement. Some kids do need glasses.

Louis understands that needing help is not the same thing as failure. Therapy doesn’t exist for people who aren’t capable of surviving on their own. It exists to teach them _how_ to survive on their own and to remind them that they can, with a little help lead a perfectly normal life someday.

Going back to therapy has been like getting glasses for Louis. Without it, he might not be able to see. But that’s okay, it’s not an indication of his strength, just as visual impairments are no indication of a person’s weakness. Some of us have 20/20 vision. Some of us never need therapy. It doesn’t make them stronger than the other half. It doesn’t make them perfect. Harry is no more invincible than Louis. He’s just as flawed, just as terrified of losing everything he holds dear.

The truth is, Harry would carry Louis around every single day of his life if that’s what his boyfriend needed to see. That’s what you do for the people you love. You take the weight of the world off their shoulders and deliver it straight into their palms. You sacrifice nothing. Not as far as Harry is concerned, because when you love somebody, when you really love somebody, their happiness lives in constant harmony with yours.

*-*-*

_Keith Urban – Somebody Like You_

The meeting starts off as a wild success. Constable Grimshaw or ‘Nick’, as he invites them to call him, embraces Louis the moment they step foot in the cosy café they agreed to meet at.

“It’s so good to see you again.” He smiles, gripping Louis by the shoulders. “You’ve grown up.”

Louis chuckles, taking a seat at the table the constable’s picked out. He pulls Harry with him, intertwining their fingers beneath the table.

“I s’pose I have. It’s been the longest two years of my life.”

The constable’s expression turns grim. He places a hand over Louis’, eyeing him sombrely.

“I’m so sorry Louis. I wish I could have saved them.”

It must take a mammoth effort for Louis to smile the way he does, turning his fingers over in order to squeeze the constable’s hand more tightly.

“You saved _me_.” He tells him, squeezing Harry’s hand beneath the table. “I owe you my life.”

After that, Harry volunteers to get some drinks. Tea for louis, a double shot espresso for the constable and a smoothie for himself. In addition to that he orders a slice of chocolate cake for Louis, knowing he’s liable to forget such basic needs as hunger when his emotions overcome him. It’s the reason they have a snack drawer in their dorm now. For Therapy Days or days when the sting of Louis’ past is a bit too much for him to take.

He’s coping as well as Harry would have hoped but there are still days when he reminds Harry of a wilted flower and moments when the pain in his eyes seems so vast, Harry can’t even begin to cross the distance between them. He refuses to give in though, refuses to throw his hands up in the air and declare Louis a lost cause. Louis is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him and if all that’s required of him is to be here when Louis’ most scared. If all that’s needed of him is to hold Louis’ hand beneath the table and keep his blood sugar up, Harry can handle that. He can handle being the supportive boyfriend. The faithful sidekick. Louis is the hero here, not Harry. He’s the hero of both their stories.

For the time being, Harry is content to sit by his side and watch him converse with the constable, slowly picking at the chocolate cake Harry bought for him.  He’s content because Louis never lets go of his hand. Nor did he fight it when Harry slid the cake in front of him, along with his tea. Things are so steady between them because they don’t have to ascertain who needs who more. They both need each other, Harry’s confident of that. It’s the greatest joy in his life, needing someone like Louis and watching him fight like hell not to need Harry back. It’s okay that Louis’ slightly stubborn at the best of times and infuriatingly headstrong at the worst. Because at the end of the day, he does need Harry, he can’t deny it. He’s finally accepted that it’s okay to need. It’s okay to want. It’s okay, because Harry will never let him down. He will never fall out of love with his beautiful, brave boy.

“So. Louis.” Nick cups his mug in both hands, smiling directly into Louis’ eyes. “You said you were studying music”.

“And working a couple of days a week at the campus centre.” Louis adds, smiling proudly.

It was an idea raised by Doctor David in one of their weekly therapy sessions. He suggested that Louis might benefit from spending a few days a week in a part time job. Louis hadn’t worked since the shooting and Doctor David thought it would be good for him to get back into the workforce. He said it might lesson the effect of Louis’ PTSD, giving him some more confidence in his everyday life and hopefully eventually helping to reduce his nightmares.

So far, it’s done Louis wonders. The first day was a big hurdle for them both. In fact Harry’s pretty sure it was just as hard for him to leave Louis there as it was for Louis to be left there on his own. Harry kept picturing him as an eighteen year old boy, dressed in some embarrassing, ill-fitting uniform, standing at those shelves with his back turned, unprepared for what was to come.

Every single time the image came to mind, Harry had to fight the urge to walk right back in to the campus centre and spirit Louis away. He was equally tempted to send him a text every ten minutes, asking if he was okay. Thankfully Harry resisted and Louis made friends with a buxom blonde course advisor named Perrie. Harry couldn’t be more grateful to her and continues to ply her with baked goods every time he sees her. She’s a saint really, having taken Louis under her wing the moment he got there. Harry couldn’t be more pleased and Louis couldn’t be any prouder of himself.

Nick chuckles, rubbing his thumb over Louis’ hand. The one he’s been holding for the past twenty minutes.

“But what else do you do with yourself? Are you single?”

Louis splutters, hand twitching very noticeably inside the constable’s grip. Harry freezes with his hand in the air, trying not to crush the cup that’s more than halfway to his lips.

“Excuse me but are you trying to pick him up?”  He quietly demands, wrapping his arm around Louis’ shoulders and gently but firmly pulling him into his side.

The constable’s eyes flicker Harry’s way, a frown settling between his eyebrows. He’s pretty much ignored Harry up until this point. Not that Harry minded, of course. In fact he was happy to see the constable paying such close attention to his boyfriend. Particularly when said boyfriend was so nervous to see him again after everything that’s happened. Harry realises now that this unwavering focus wasn’t an honourable attempt at making Louis feel as comfortable as possible. The constable seems to have far less innocent intentions.

“Harry, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He grits his teeth. “You remember, we spoke on the phone? “I’m Louis’ boyfriend.”

“Oh.” The constable’s eyes flash with surprise. He redirects his gaze to a blushing Louis. “Is he really?”

“Yes.” Louis’ eyes find Harry’s, holding them powerfully. “We’re together.”

 _I love you_. Harry mouths and Louis buries a crinkly smile in the curve of his shoulder.

“Apart from the fact that you’re in a position of power.” Harry commands Nick’s attention, nodding his head at the firmly pressed uniform. “You’re also probably ten years his senior. Don’t you think it might be a bit inappropriate?”

“I’m…sorry.” Nick bows his head. “Really, Harry. I’m sorry for flirting with Louis.”

Funnily enough, the expression on his face is quite sincerely remorseful. Louis winks at Harry, then turns and raises a cynical eyebrow at Nick.

“Really? That was flirting.” He teases. “You checked me out once, constable. That was _not_ flirting.”

“He checked you out?” Harry frowns, stroking his thumb over Louis’ bare shoulder, exposed by the sharp cut of his top.

He probably shouldn’t be so surprised that other men are looking at his boyfriend. Louis looks positively gorgeous today.

“Stop.” He chuckles, pushing Harry’s pouting face away. “The jealousy isn’t cute.”

“No,” Harry laughs. “But you are.”

He nuzzles Louis’ neck, forgetting the prying eyes around them. Laying kisses on the sensitive arch of his boy’s neck, he thrills to the sound of Louis’ effeminate giggle. So much brighter and bubblier than he’d ever be willing to admit.

“Stop.” He begs, nosing his way under Harry’s face just to capture his mouth in a kiss. “Babe, you’re embarrassing me.” He whines, even though the corners of his lips are tilted up as Harry presses a wet kiss to the tip of his nose.

“The two of you are perfect together.” Nick announces from across them, beaming widely.

The both of them share a confused look.

“You’re done checking him out?” Harry glares.

Louis elbows him, shaking his head. “Stop. He said he was sorry.”

“And I am.” The constable assures them, folding his hands into a prayer position. “Truly. It’s just so good to see you again, Louis. That day was truly awful. What happened to you, what happened to your friends, it was horrific. And I honestly thought you were going to bleed out in my arms. I didn’t think I could stop it. I never expected you to grow into this gorgeous, ambitious person. I think perhaps my affection is misplaced.”

“I always see your face in my head.” Louis admits, squeezing Harry’s thigh. “You used to be my hero. You used to be the only person I could ever imagine would be capable of protecting me. You were my one remaining link to my friends, my one remaining link to that memory that defined me for two whole years.”

“And now?”

“Now,” he presses his thumb into Harry’s inseam, “I don’t need a hero to save my life. I don’t need a link to that memory because it no longer defines me. I choose to live every single day, I stem my own bleeding. And that memory? It lives inside me. It doesn’t hold the same power over me anymore. It’s not sequestered away in some dark corner of my mind. Not like it used to be. It’s in here.” He beats his fist against his chest, eyes shining brightly. “It lives in _here._ I used to see your face in my head all the time. I think, because it reminded me of why I survived. I didn’t just survive because I ran and hid from the shooters, I survived because you fought for me to live. But now, now it’s not your face I see. When I’m in doubt, when I forget why I should bother to live with this hurt, I see Harry’s face instead. Because it reminds me that there will always be someone fighting for me. Only he's not just fighting for my survival, he’s fighting for my happiness too. He’s fighting for a chance to love me every single day for as long as we both shall live. He’s fighting for forever. With me. The boy who hid.”

Harry picks up his hand, pressing his lips to Louis’ shaking fingertips.

“You’re not just the boy who hid.” He shakes his head, bursting with pride. “You’re the boy who _survived_ , in spite of the odds. I don’t care how ridiculous it is Louis, I’m pretty sure you’re the love of my whole damn life. I’ll never meet anyone like you, I’ll never meet anyone who makes it feel painful not to hold them every minute of every day. I’ll never meet anyone who saw the end of the world and rose from the ashes anyway. My very own little phoenix bird.”

“Jesus.” Nick rests an elbow on the table, dropping his chin down into his palm. “You two are like some kind of storybook couple, you know that?”

Louis grins, pulling Harry into another (surprisingly dirty) kiss.

 _Later_ , he whispers in Harry’s ear, biting down on his own lip when he pulls away.

“Yes, we know.” He drags Harry’s arm back around his shoulders, burrowing into his side. “It kind of makes me sick how happy I am right now.”

“Kudos mate.” Nick smiles, tiling his head at Harry. “Keep him smiling, will you?”

“I will.” Harry vows. Squeezing Louis’ hip, he stares the constable down. “You kept him alive. And for that, I will never be able to thank you enough. You may not be the hero in Louis’ story anymore but you are the hero in mine. You’re the reason I get to hold him in my arms every single night and make him sickeningly happy every single day. You _are_ a hero, constable. But I’ve got it from here, I promise. I promise you now that what you did that day will never be in vain. I’m going to make him sickeningly happy for as long as he lets me, I’m going to give him the fairytale.”

“You.” Nick eyes him seriously. “You, Harry. You’re the fairytale.”

“I’m—“ Harry shakes his head.

“You are.” Louis interrupts, gripping his jaw, tracing his other hand through Harry’s curls. “You came into my life and swept me off my feet, Harry Styles. You swept me off my feet before I could even tell you no. You knew what I needed before I knew I needed it. And what I needed, what I still need, is for somebody to be there for me when the darkness closes in. I bit the poison apple Harry, I bit it right down to its core and it turned me sour. I fell, I drowned in the darkness. For all intents and purpose, I was in a deep coma, never to be woken again. Until you, Harry. Until I met you. You awakened me, you made it your business to flood the darkest parts of my soul with light. You taught me to fight dragons, Harry and I’ll keep fighting them every day just to be with you.”

Harry’s eyes burn with happy tears. He tenderly cups Louis’ face, eyes roving over him slowly. With Louis’ hand still gripping his jaw tight, he pours all of his love into a kiss.

“Tell me that you’re not always like this.” The constable rolls his eyes. “This is just not natural.”

“Well…” Louis wipes at Harry’s tear-filled eyes. “We kind of are.”

*-*-*

The constable leaves with a hug from Louis and a begrudging handshake from Harry. Louis turns to him after Nick’s gone and smacks him across the arm.

“Ow,” he cries out, eyes wide with alarm. “Baby, what was that for?!”

“For acting like a jealous prat.” Louis glares at him.

“He was coming onto you.” He pouts. “I wasn’t sure if maybe you had a thing for men in uniform.”

Louis throws his head back, laughing.

“And so what if I did? What if I have a thing for men in uniform?”

“Well…” Harry grins. He grips Louis’ waist tight, nudging their noses together softly. “You ever light a fire in our dorm, you call Liam, okay? He wanted to be a firefighter when he was younger.”

“You. You’re an idiot.” Louis giggles, pressing their lips together firmly. “I should never have fallen in love with you.”

“That’s too bad.” Harry sucks at Louis’ bottom lip. “Now you’re stuck with me forever.”

“That is too bad.” He agrees, tilting his head up to meet Harry’s gaze. “I might just have to grow old with you.”

“Shame.” Harry’s eyes start to drift closed. He pours his heart and soul into every single touch of their lips, massaging Louis’ tongue with his own. “You must be devastated.”

“You know what.” Louis pulls away, breathing heavily. The corners of his crinkly eyes look like roadmaps to happy memories.

“What?” Harry sighs, pushing him up against the car, letting his hands roam freely now that they’re slightly hidden away.

Louis’ eyelashes flutter. He whimpers every single time Harry’s fingers drift up the inside of his shirt, smoothing over his sides.

 “I’m not that devastated after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Was it too cheesy? It felt very cheesy. I do have a penchant for writing big dramatic speeches.
> 
> Please stay tuned for the epilogue x


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the good stuff!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote three quarters of an epilogue and hated it so I deleted the whole thing! I like this much better and I hope you like it too. The boys are only mentioned briefly, I hope that's okay.   
> Also, I marathoned the whole first season of Shadowhunters before I wrote this so if you were wondering about the name....
> 
> Anyway, enjoy :)

When Harry wakes at ten to two in the morning, he knows instantly his boy has had a bad dream. There are no worrying sounds to accompany the knowing feeling in his chest but sure enough, after a few beats of silence, he hears the unmistakable pitter patter of tiny feet. It’s quickly followed by the sound of their door creaking open and the distinct sound of a five year old's anguished cries.

The nightlight shines through from the hallway beyond, partly illuminating the room and Harry watches with amusement as Alec climbs up onto their bed with haste. He’s wearing the gorgeous teddy bear onesie Louis bought for him just this past week and looks like an actual teddy bear come to life.

"It was 50% off!" Louis had said when Harry questioned him, more than a little concerned about the spending.

Louis' eyes were as wide as little Alec's who stood there beside his father, handsome little curls trickling out the sides of his furry hood.

"Oh really?" Harry had raised his eyebrows, nose twitching with the kind of fondness only his boys could inspire. "Soooo it had nothing to do with our son having you wrapped right round his little finger?"

"Papa." Alec had tugged on Harry's trouser leg, his face the picture of woeful sorrow.

Harry was beside himself. The boy is just five. Yet, he's almost as good at getting what he wants from Harry as his cheeky father.

"Yes, Alec?" Harry ran a hand over his furry little hood. "Do you have something you'd like to say?"

His son nodded, lifting up two hands that were also clad in dark brown fur. It was categorically unfair how someone so lethal in persuasion could be so cute at the same time.

Alec is an impressively well-spoken five year old, having well reaped the benefits of having an award winning songwriter for a father and an academically acclaimed history professor for another. In short, he doesn’t really need any help to persuade Harry, or any other adult for that matter. And yet, (though Harry is admittedly quite biased) their son is perhaps in the cutest five-year old in the entire country. With his springy dark curls and darling blue eyes, he’s absolutely gorgeous, the perfect mix of them both, without them ever intending it to be so.

Fortunately for them, they'd gotten massively lucky with their surrogate. So while Louis had been the one to biologically father Alec, Harry had felt just as involved and in a rare show of fate, equally represented. It was a dream come true for the two of them, particularly because they had been newlyweds at the time, eager for parenthood but still rather certain that it wouldn’t happen for quite some time.

They'd figured they'd have to wait at least a year before finding someone willing to help give them a child, let alone someone who was entirely committed to giving them a whole family. Apparently, luck had been on their side and it feels like it still is, each and every day. While juggling their various commitments ought to have been arduous, especially with a child thrown in to the mix, they both find it equally rewarding and remain ever so in love with the family they’ve just started to build.

Harry is never sure who loves Alec more, Louis; the one who sobbed openly when their baby was born, or himself; who honestly couldn’t think of anything more precious than their son. It ceases to matter, really because it means Alec is the most well-loved little boy in all of England. And he is, without a doubt, _adored_.  Having the two most loving grandmothers in all of the UK, determined to spoil him and three crazy uncles to laugh at makes Alec something of a little prince.  Still, funnily enough, it was always ever so obvious to Harry who Alec's favourite was. The fact that it was Louis and not himself, did not bother him in the slightest.

"He didn't mean to buy it for me, papa." Alec had eagerly defended. "He walked away from the shop and everything! But I was sad and daddy said I deserved a treat."

"Besides love," Louis curled a hand around Harry’s bicep, smiling up at him winningly. He was irritatingly beautiful at the best of times but Harry’s husband looked positively _decadent_ in dark aviators and tight, painted on jeans. "Money is hardly an issue for us right now. What with Kesha signing me on to help with her new album."

"That is _so_ not the point." Harry huffed, turning to regard his little bear of a son. "And Alec, while I appreciate your father's efforts, he needs to learn to show a little bit more restraint. We have the future to think about."

"Daddy." Alec wrapped his whole body around Louis' leg, ignoring Harry and growling into his father's well-loved jeans. "I'm a bear boy. Tell papa I'm a bear boy!"

Louis hoisted their little bear boy up into his arms, growling back at Alec cutely. It made their son giggle as Louis settled him on his hip.

"Why don't you tell him yourself, love?" He prompted, tickling Alec's rosy cheek. "I think papa was speaking to you darling, not me."

"Papa." Alec turned on the shyness, hiding his face in Louis' arm.

Harry huffed a laugh, exchanging a fond look with Louis who smacked a kiss to Alec's cheek.

"Yes Alec?" Harry played along, reaching across to tug at his son's feet, earning himself a precious little giggle.

"I'M A BEAR BOY!" Their son roared, kicking all his limbs out and almost smashing poor Louis in the face.

"Okay bear boy, time to get down." Louis gently set their son back down on the ground, ruffling his hair. "... _before_ you knock me out with those furious fists of yours."

"Furious fists!" Alec echoed back, making "whoosh" noises as he pummelled his fists through the air.

"Indeed, they are." Louis agreed. "Now can my big bear boy please take off his costume and go wash up for dinner please?"

"But Daaaaaaddy." Alec whined, stomping his little feet. "I'm a bear boy! Uncky Ni would let me keep it on.”

Harry had rolled his eyes. He should have known Uncle Niall was to blame.

"Alec." Harry reprimanded him. "Listen to your father, please. Your Uncky Ni is only in charge when we’re not here and let me tell you, your father and I will be having a serious talk with him about what goes on when we’re not. Now, you can put the costume straight back on after dinner but you need to take it off for now."

"Okay." He agreed with a pout. "Sorry papa."

He sulked all the way to his bedroom, earning a joint chuckle from his parents. While he was gone, Louis took the opportunity to try to apologise for the spontaneous purchase but Harry shut him up with a powerful kiss and a quick squeeze of his arse.

"Mm." Louis rubbed their noses together, smiling. "What was that for, love?"

"We have an adorable bear boy for a son." Harry chuckled, swallowing Louis' laughter up with a kiss. "And I have a magnificent husband who happens to be an incredible father too. I love you, Louis Tomlinson-Styles."

"And I, you." Louis tenderly cupped his cheek. "Think we can bring out the 'bear boy' stories at his twenty first?"

Harry laughed until he cried. At which point Louis had to comfort him because he was genuinely devastated by the thought of their baby ever growing up.

*-*-*

Harry chuckles quietly to himself as their little bear boy crawls across the bed towards Louis. Any other person would have woken by now. Their son’s about as stealthy as a drunken elephant. Yet true to form, their little ray of sunshine sleeps on.

Alec should probably know by now that his father sleeps like the dead. He has done for quite some time. That isn't to say he doesn't have night terrors anymore, or that he never goes quiet and still just thinking about his memory of that day.

PTSD is not the kind of condition you recover from easily, or quickly for that matter. In fact, Harry suspects that most people never fully recover at all. Harry thinks Louis will be among them and that’s okay, because the control Louis has now, compared to the control he had then is remarkable.

The bad dreams aren't exactly a thing of the past, not yet but they no longer mean a restless nights' sleep for them both. Nor do they have any true bearing on Louis’ life. If anything, the effect has been positive.  Louis is fearless in a way he never could have been before and Harry has never been so immensely proud of anyone in his life, nor more in love.

It was on the five-year anniversary of the shooting that Harry proposed, knowing that for Louis it meant the world to have finally reached a place of happiness in his life. Perhaps almost as much as it meant to have survived five years with PTSD, five years spent building himself back up when once upon a time, he'd not believed he’d last even one.

Harry had taken him to a woodland retreat, far away from the regular hustle and bustle of their everyday lives and perfect for what he had in mind. On their last night there, with the sunset screaming across the sky above, he'd got down on one knee and proposed, expensive diamond ring and all.

Louis wept, completely overwhelmed, as if the last vestige of self-loathing had fled his body with a gasp. He'd trembled from head to toe as he promised to love Harry for the rest of his life, if only he could promise the same. Harry couldn't think of a better exchange and they spent the rest of that weekend split between the bedroom and the outdoors, dreaming up ideas for their upcoming wedding. It would turn out to be a spectacular event, one Harry’s certain he’ll remember for the rest of his life.

There’s simply no way he could ever forget the moment Louis appeared from behind a set of aged oak trees, a makeshift aisle laid down across the grass between them. The sun lit the stage for a magical ceremony. It had just begun to set beyond Louis’ head as he made his way down the aisle towards Harry.

It lit the crystallised tears in his eyes which shone just as brightly as the day Harry met him, a stunning cobalt blue to match the delicate cornflower pinned to his lapel. The warmth of the sky tinted his caramel skin pink and made the evening doubly special for them both. For them, it would remain a constant reminder of the night Harry proposed. 

Louis wore a black, glittery tux with a silver vest hiding just underneath. He looked gorgeous with a soft, delicate fringe and a suit as tight as his curvy body would allow. Truly ravishing he was and by god, did Harry want to ravish him the moment he came into view. He wanted to sweep Louis up into his arms, bridal style (ha!) and ravish him right there in the woods.  

Instead, he’d been forced to wait for what felt like an age as Louis slowly made his way up the aisle towards him, Jay holding onto one arm while Anne gently curled herself around the other. Together, their mothers gave him away, with tearful smiles gracing their faces and a kiss for each of their boys. Still, the tears in their eyes were half as many as the one’s in Harry’s. He quietly embraced his husband-to-be. Bowing their heads together, he held on to Louis for dear life as their celebrant’s speech commenced.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Harry later added to his vows, eyes glued to Louis’ face.

His lungs were almost crushed by the weight of emotion. As a feeling of complete and utter devotion took over, he gave each of the boys a look; a confirmation of what they’d always known.

“I will never know something as inexhaustibly _magical_ as you.”

*-*-*  
  
"Daddy! Daddy, wake up!"

Alec is crying, wailing actually, which completely breaks Harry's heart. He's never heard his son in such a state of distress. Aside from that awful day a year ago when Louis’ car broke down and he couldn’t get reception. Harry didn’t know if something had happened to him or not. He hadn’t mentioned anything to Alec, despite feeling like the whole world had tilted on its axis and was about to fall off.

He’d held back panicked breaths and worried tears as Alec sat by the door, waiting for his daddy, crying and begging Harry to tell him when his father was coming home. Harry tried to console him but he couldn’t tell Alec when or even if his father was coming home, because truthfully, he didn’t know. The two hours they waited for Louis to return home were easily the worst, most agonising two hours of his life to date. Louis finally walked through the door at 8pm to find Alec inconsolable and Harry just having given in to his tears. He immediately went as pale as a ghost.

“What’s wrong?” He’d bent down to inspect Alec, looking for any signs of injury. “Baby, what’s happened?”

“We didn’t know where you were.” Harry answered for him. “Lou, you were supposed to be home five hours ago.”

“You didn’t get my message?” Louis looked shell shocked, bouncing Alec on his hip as he advanced on Harry, reaching out to cup his face. “Haz, I’m fine. My car broke down and I didn’t have reception but I thought at least one of my messages must have gotten through.”

“Nope.” Harry gasped, a sob breaking through. He embraced both his boys together, desperately pressing his mouth against Louis’. “I thought something had happened to you and they couldn’t find an ID. I called all the hospitals in the area.”

“I’m sorry.” Louis bowed their heads together, shaping a hand around Alec’s cheek. “I’m so sorry, loves. I’m okay. It’s going to be okay.”

They stood like that for at least ten minutes, the need to be close to each other much stronger than any inclination to move.

For Harry, it only reaffirmed what he always knew, even as a child; that if ever found a home among people, he’d never want to leave home again.

*-*-*

"Darling, c'mere." Harry wraps his arms around Alec's middle and pulls the boy into his lap. "Sweetheart, daddy's asleep. We shouldn't wake him if we can help it."

Harry isn't ashamed to admit that watching Louis sleep through the night is still one of the biggest joys in his life. It formed part of his vows at the wedding, a surprise for Louis, whose eyes had welled up at the mention, a tremulous smile touching his lips.

Harry remembers the exact words he used.

_I promise to love you when it's easy, when you sleep like an angel, weightless in my arms. I promise to love you when it's impossible, when I cannot seem to carry the weight of the world on your mind. I promise you that your restless heart will be my restless heart, from this day forward, for forever and beyond. Louis. I promise you. I will not rest my head if you cannot rest yours._

"I had another n…nightmare." Alec whimpers, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck, snuffling into his chest. "It was h...horrible, papa."

"Oh baby." Harry kisses his son's soft curls, holding him tight. As tight as he ever dared hold Louis when the worst of his episodes was upon him. "My poor, poor baby."

He just wishes he could protect Alec from this. From this merciless torment and heart wrenching fear. Louis has often expressed concerns that he somehow passed on a genetic predilection to Alec. But Harry is always quick to remind him that he couldn't have inherited a disorder caused by trauma. Besides, a certain percentage of nightmares are normal in a child Alec's age.

The thing is, Alec is not one to accept that he cannot know something just because he is a child and Harry and Louis have never sought to challenge this. It made sense to them, after all they'd been through. There were so many things they would not be able to protect Alec from, whether they kept their knowledge from him or not. So, as a rule, they tried not to. However, while knowing more about the world means that Alec might be better equipped to face any unexpected challenges, it also means that he’s completely aware of how many things there are to be afraid of in this world. Very real things, things that he might just be forced to face one day.

"Can we p-pwease wake Daddy?" Alec rubs at his eyes, looking to his father with a wobbly chin. "He _knows_ , papa. He knows the nightmares."

Harry knows it has to be bad if Alec can't even pronounce his words properly. The droopy lip and wobbly chin are no act. He also knows that Alec saying Louis "knows the nightmares" is his way of saying Louis _understands_ them. Better than Harry, anyway. Which he does, undoubtedly.

"Okay." Harry caves quickly. He usually does in his scenario, silently willing his husband to make Alec laugh again, the way only Louis knows how. "But let me wake him up. Okay, little love?"

"Okay papa." His son hugs him close, squeezing his neck tight. "Thank you."

Harry would be forgiven for thinking his son's trying to strangle him to death but he knows by now that Alec only hugs him this way when he's feeling particularly attached. It takes Harry's breath away every time and reminds him just how much he loves his little boy, prepared to do almost anything to see him smile.

He picks Alec up and plonks him down between the two of them, quietly reaching over to shake Louis' bare shoulder. If not for Alec beside him, Harry might have been distracted by the teeth marks on Louis’ sun kissed skin, the ones he left there a few hours ago while he was fucking Louis into the mattress, the headboard smacking against the wall. This child is such a cockblock, Harry sometimes thinks to himself but in all honesty, he wouldn't have it any other way. He knows Louis feels the exact same too.

That said, they've still managed to maintain a shockingly intense sex life given that Alec has only just started school. Harry figured it would burn out some, after so many years spent together but they've always been so passionate with each other and they still are. His lust for Louis is very much alive and kicking, although not of course in this moment.

"Lou...baby." Harry reaches down beneath the blankets, squeezing his hip, before trailing his hand back up to his shoulder. "Wake up."

Nothing. All these years together and Harry still can't manage to wake him.

"Papa?" Alec turns to him, his little legs tucked beneath the covers, his darling little paws perched on top.

"Yes, love?"

"May I try...please?" He begs, his beautiful blue eyes threatening more tears.

"Okay love." He kisses Alec's forehead. "Just be gentle."

Alec reaches out ever so slowly. As if he's scared the movement of the air particles around them might startle Louis. It would be hilarious if it weren't so painfully adorable.

"Daddy." He gently cups his father's cheek.

His little hand is only a quarter of the size of Louis' cheek, which is saying something, given Louis' minute features.

"It's me, Alec. Please wake up."

Much to Harry's disgruntlement, Louis' eyes immediately crinkle and then open. They settle somewhat alertly on Alec, as if only their son is granted the permission to wake him at such an ungodly hour. Never Harry. That said, Harry's never been so fond of two people in his entire life. He watches as Louis reaches out and draws Alec into his arms, enclosing his naked chest around him.

"Why, what have we here? A Mr Alexander Tomlinson-Styles, I presume?"

Alec giggles, instantly charmed.

"Daddy," he chides, grabbing Louis' stubbled jaw with both hands. "My name is Alec! Not Alexaaaander."

He drags out the vowel sound like a very realistic depiction of an upper-class brit.

"I named you, didn't I? I think I would know." Louis grins, gaze flitting over Harry, a smile in his eyes.

"Besides, Alexaaaaander..." Their son huffs in a forceful show of attitude, a smile working its way around the corners of his mouth. "Only grown up boys get called by their nicknames. You're not grown up yet, love. You're still our little baby."

"Am not." Alec pouts, looking to Harry for corroboration. "Tell him papa."

"You heard him, Lou." He grins at Alec, winking cheekily. "Our baby is all grown up!"

"In that case....Alec, I guess you don't need bedtime cuddles with your poor old father anymore." Louis sighs, put upon and proceeds to lift Alec off his lap, moving to put him back onto the floor.

“Wait! Daddy." Alec wraps his arms around Louis' waist, nestling in tight. Louis throws Harry a smug look and hoists Alec back up into his lap. "Can I have some bedtime cuddles?"

"What's the magic word, love?" Harry reminds him. "Daddy's not going to cuddle you unless you say it."

"Pleeeease." Their son smiles up at them both, a tooth missing from the very centre of his mouth. "Daddy, I had a bad dream again."

"Oh darling, I'm sorry." Louis presses his lips to Alec's forehead, leaning back to inspect his expression. "What can papa and I do?"

"Can I sleep here?" He asks in a small voice. "With you?"

"Of course you can, sweetheart." Louis readily agrees, Harry nodding along. "It's okay, we all get scared sometimes, baby. It's okay to need a cuddle with your dad's every now and then."

"Did you cuddle with your dad's when you had nightmares?" Alec asks, burrowing into the space between his dad's.

They're still working on teaching him family logistics. He doesn't seem to understand that just because he has two dads, it doesn't mean everybody else does. He gets particularly confused when they try to explain that they both have a mum and a dad, just like most of the kids at school.

"No, sweetheart. I have a mum and a dad, remember?" Louis taps his nose, leaning down to brush their noses together in a funny little Eskimo kiss. It earns a cheesy grin from Alec. "Plus, I didn't have nightmares when I was young like you. I had them when I was a lot older."

"Why?" Alec's face twists confusedly and Louis' whole body tenses up.

It pains Harry to have to watch him navigate this minefield, always cautious not to reveal too much too soon. Alec needs to hear it all one day. He needs to know how brave his father is, how brave he's had to become. Or at least, that's how Harry sees it. However, they both agreed to wait until he can fully comprehend the idea of trauma. They’re mindful of the fact that Alec's dealing with his own share of nightmares right now. He doesn't need to have any more. Particularly when those nightmares could consist of watching his father die, a burden no child should have to shoulder before their time.

"Because love," Louis swallows thickly. "I went through something really horrible. Something that scared me more than anything else ever had before."

"What was it?" Alec asks, awestruck. "Was papa there?"

"It was...an accident." Louis says awkwardly, trading worried looks with Harry. "Your father wasn't there. I hadn't met him yet."

"An accident?" This seems to puzzle him further. "Like when Charlie's dad got all smashed up in his car?"

Both parents wince, remembering just how awful it had been to see one of Alec's friends from school almost lose a parent.

"Yes." Harry chimes in, squeezing Alec's hand. "Just like that."

Not exactly like that but Alec isn't mature enough to know the specifics. Not even close.

"Oh." Their son seems crestfallen. "Did the car smash you up really bad daddy?" He lifts Louis' arm, inspecting both sides. "Are you okay?"

Harry's heart melts when he watches his son's face take the shape of concern. Alec is always looking out for Louis, even in the smallest of ways. He seems to realise his father needs it, that without two of them, Louis might be liable to forget such things. Harry doesn't know what he'd do if anything ever happened to Louis. He's Alec's number one hero and the love of Harry's life. The two of them would be lost without their Donny solider, that's for sure.

"Oh love, I'm okay!" Louis coos, pressing numerous kisses to Alec's hair. "It was a long time ago now. It still hurts sometimes but I hardly ever have bad dreams anymore."

"Last time we talked, you said you did!" Alec raises his voice, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest in a rare show of grumpiness. "You said I was just like you."

"You are!" Louis reassures him. "You're my baby, Alexander. You're exactly like me. And papa too. You get all your best bits from papa."

At this point, they've explained to Alec that while Louis is the one who had a baby with his mother, Harry is just as much his father. He's the man Louis chose to be with and the only one he could ever see himself having a family with.

"I got your curly hair, papa." Alec snuggles into Harry's side, laying a hand on his stomach. "Even though it's from mummy."

"That's right baby." Harry grins at him. "You are one smart boy! Aren't you?"

Alec nods, pushing his head into Harry's side so that Harry will pet his hair. Louis giggles at them both, rolling his eyes at Harry. It's not the first time he's seen their son ask for this, having watched Louis do it for Harry a thousand times before.

"I do have nightmares." Louis admits, expression neutral. "But I don't have them as much as I used to and I don't worry about them anymore. Your father is here every single time I have a bad dream. He's here whenever I need a cuddle or a kiss."

"Eww." Alec screws up his face. "Kissing!"

They both share a chuckle, gently touching their lips together. Alec giggles through his squawk of protest. He's been a lot more tolerant of their affection since a couple of his friends' parents got divorced this past year. One day he'd come home from school and asked them about it straight out, a little frown of concentration on his face.

"What's a divorce?"

"Something your father and I are never getting." Harry had joked, gently swatting Louis' behind, the counter hiding it from Alec's view.

"Don't promise him that." Louis had hissed back. "Alec, darling...don't listen to your father. He's far too confident for his own good."

"I'm confident in us." Harry had said softly, brushing his lips across Louis' cheek. "The _dream team_."

Louis had softened at that, turning his body into Harry’s and kissing him soundly. Alec was busy staring at his shoes so Harry copped another quick feel of his husband’s butt. Louis all but giggled as he pulled away.

"Okay love, let's have a talk." He'd announced, leading Alec over to the lounge.

Harry had watched in wonder as Louis found the best, least traumatic way to explain family separation to a five-year-old, even going so far as to explain how it felt for him when he went through it. When he was done, Alec begged to visit the safe house Louis had set up all those years ago, for children of divorce and family separation (CODAFS). Yet from then on, he seemed ecstatic every single time his parents so much as held hands.

"Daddy. Papa." He addresses them now.

"Yes love?"

"Will I have someone like papa to cuddle me when I'm scared?"

"Of course you will." Louis' eyes crinkle fondly, a breathtaking smile lighting up his entire face. "You're going to meet someone someday, a special boy or girl--"

"Not a girl!" Alec interrupts, stormy faced. "Charlie says girls have cooties."

"Well Charlie's just being silly." Harry tells him, tugging on his foot. "Are you a silly boy, Alexander?"

"No, papa." He pouts. "I'm a smart boy."

Louis winks at Harry.

"That you are, darling. You get all your smarts from me."

Harry rolls his eyes, a bemused smile gracing his lips.

“Alexander, your father is a smart _alec_. That's very different from being smart."

Louis scoffs, disbelieving, the gentle light of humour filling his eye.

"A smart...Alec?" Their son's eyebrows fold together. "Daddy is a smart me? Papa, that doesn't make any sense, you silly boy!"

It's said with complete faith in his own English smarts, which has both fathers instantly reduced to tears of laughter.

"Yes I am, Alec." Harry says through his tears. "I'm a very silly boy."

The boy nods, as though Harry's confirmation settles it once and for all, then turns back to Louis, his favourite.

"You were saying Daddy?"

"I was saying..." Louis spares him a smile. "You _will_ meet someone someday, boy or girl, who will share your bed like papa shares mine and when you're scared or lonely, whenever you miss your daft old dads, that special person, whoever they may be, will be there to comfort you. They’ll cuddle you when we're not there."

"You won't be there?" Alec looks heartbroken at the thought, never truly having considered it. "We won't live together forever?"

"No, sweetheart." Harry tells him, a touch of sadness misting his eyes. "We won't. But just think, when you don't live with us anymore, you don't have to go to bed when we tell you. Or eat your vegetables. Or take off your bear pyjamas before eating! Of course, we hope you will." Louis chuckles. _Damage done_ , he mouths at Harry. "But we won't be able to make you anymore."

"I can wear bear pyjamas all day?!" Alec says, bouncing on the bed, his excited blue eyes flicking between his father's faces as if waiting for one of them to rebuke the claim.

"Yes." Louis sighs, defeated. "But your father is going to regret saying that when you're 25 years old and still unemployed.”

Alec doesn't understand that. He looks between them, frowning.

"What is an ‘unemployed?’ I don't want to be an unemployed, papa.”

"You won't be." Harry assures him, shaking his head at Louis' antics, a lilting smile touching his lips. "Daddy's just teasing."

"Daddy." Alec whines, clearly put out. "Don't tease me."

Louis laughs boisterously and closes his arms around Alec's waist.

"Sorry baby."

"'M not a baby!"

Harry and Louis chuckle at the thought. He is their baby and he’ll stay that way, at least for a little while.

"Now tell me love, how do you feel about the nightmares? Do you feel a bit better?" Louis asks their son, squeezing his sides. "You won't have them forever, I promise. Even if you do, there will always be someone there to help you. All you have to do is ask."

Harry and Louis share a look, silently reaffirming that it was quite different for them. The truth is, Louis never had to ask.

"Really?" Alec looks hopeful. "They won't say no?"

"They might." Louis says truthfully. "But that just means they aren't the right person to help you. It doesn't mean you shouldn't ask."

"Okay." Alec sits there, thinking for a minute. "Daddy?"

"Yes love?"

"What if--what if I find someone who I like to cuddle more than you and papa? Will you be mad?"

"No, love." Louis is positively beaming now, affection bursting forth from his smile. "We'll be okay."

“Yeah." Alec agrees, looking to Harry. "Hey papa?"

"Yes, Alec?"

"When I don't live with you guys anymore, you can kiss daddy as much as you want."

Harry roars with laughter, watching Louis do the same. Alec frowns at them both, confused.

"Why thank you Alexander." He says with a chuckle "That's very kind of you."

"You're welcome." Alec tells him. "Okay daddy, papa...I'm going back to bed now."

"You are, are you?" Louis raises his eyebrows. "You're not scared anymore? Darling, you never did tell us, what was the nightmare about?"

"Oh." He shrugs. "It was a giant block of cheese chasing me down our street."

They both struggle to keep a straight face.

"Because you're lactose intolerant?" Louis clarifies, lips trembling.

"Yes." He says, wide eyed. "It was terrifying!"

"Poor love."

"Yeah. I'm fine now though, thanks daddy." Alec says, crawling over Louis' legs to jump off his side of the bed.

Louis pats his behind.

"Okay sweetheart, can you give us a goodnight kiss before you go, please?"

Alec sighs, pretending to be bothered but doesn't fight it when Louis hoists him back up, planting a loud, wet kiss on his cheek. Harry leans over to receive the same and they both watch as Alec jumps down, speeding away down the hallway to his room.

"Slow down!" Harry calls after him, rolling his eyes at Louis.

Alec keeps running.

"You heard your father, Alec. Slow down, please!" Louis shouts.

As usual, it's Louis that has the magic touch.

"Sorry daddy! Sorry papa! Love you!" He shouts every single world, his voice echoing through the house when he reaches his room.

"Goodnight." They call out together, Harry pressing a short kiss to Louis' throat. "We love you too."

They hear the quiet snick of a door closing and immediately, they're plunged into silence.

"Can you believe that boy is our son?" Louis huffs a laugh, burying it in Harry's shoulder.

Harry chuckles, playing with the short hairs at the base of Louis' head.

"I can believe he's _your_ son, yes." He teases. "That boy is an absolute menace."

"Is that right?" Louis raises an eyebrow at him. "Can't handle the two of us, can you?"

"Not the both of you together, no."

Louis snorts at that, sinking his fingers into Harry's curls, pulling him in for a surprisingly dirty kiss.

"Mm." Harry noses at his cheek appreciatively, quietly inhaling his scent. "What was that for?"

Louis cups his cheeks, kissing him again, short and sweet.

"For holding me whenever I'm scared, for helping me raise our incredible son."

"It's been a pleasure." Harry says, voice a little bit rough. He'll blame the early hour on his misty eyes. "I couldn't think of a better way to spend the rest of my life."

"Likewise." Louis agrees, eyes flickering away from Harry's with what just might be nerves. "But I have to ask you something, H. I've wanted it for a while."

"Okay...." Harry's heart beats faster, only a stone's throw away from bursting right out of his chest.

He hopes Louis will ask for the one thing he's sure they both want most in the world.

"I want to have another baby." Louis' voice breaks. tears blurring his vision. "Harry, I really, really want to have another baby with you."

Harry laughs, joyful and without doubt. He gathers Louis in his embrace.

"Oh baby, why are you crying? I'd love to have another little one with you!"

"I know, it's just..." he sobs, reaching up to brush away his own tears. "I never thought I'd have a baby at all, let alone two!"

"Oh." Harry feels like all his breath has been punched out of his chest. His eyes feel wet as he presses a firm kiss to Louis' lips. "Oh baby, I'm so happy. I'm _so_ proud of you."

"Me too." Louis agrees, palming Harry's cheek. The coolness of his ring is enough to make Harry's eyes water anew. "Because I picked you. I can't believe I get to be here with you and our boy."

"Lou." Harry gathers Louis' face in his hands, bowing their foreheads together. "You are every dream I've ever had. I want to dream a whole lifetime with you."

"Silly boy." Louis teases, tongue darting out to push through the barrier of Harry's lips. He pauses just before their lips can touch or press together. "You don't need to dream when your best dream has become your life.

"Lou." Harry exhales, gone desperate with the need to kiss him. To ruin his beautiful husband over and over and over again. "You make me strong."

Their kiss burns with the promise of a lifetime, a lifetime spent with each other. A lifetime spent making each other happy. A lifetime...because that's how long a love like theirs lasts. A love like that burns eternal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is the bestest thing in the world!  
> Also, stay tuned for an update on my other WIP :)


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